I Did It I'm Sorry
by Feed My Children
Summary: Human AU. Why did you have to fall in love? I wasn't even the one to catch you. We were perfect as is. Yet, I, too, was falling in another direction, and, too, was I caught by another. We've ruined ourselves; we've frayed the ropes of our lover's knot. But I can still fix it and make it better than before. Oops. I've broken it and now it's in tatters. Warning: Incest, Abuse, Death
1. Prologue: A day in the life of Matthias

It was almost noon. Sunlight passed through translucent curtains into a large dark room. In the room, there was a desk in front of the window, a closet by the door, and a drawer at the front of the room. Across from the drawer was a queen sized bed with messy sheets and scattered pillows, where a tall young man was about to awaken. He slowly opened his eyes into narrow slits. He looked around his semi-lit room before moving his arms around his bed to feel for his phone. Once found, he brought the phone to his face and checked the time. _11:27a.m_. After a minute or two, he lazily sat himself up at the side of his bed – his feet on the cold wood floor, blankets covering his lap down to his ankles. He arched backwards and stretched his arms up. After his stretch, he took the phone charger from on top of the night stand next to his bed and plugged it into his phone and the outlet behind the night stand. He pulled off the sheets that were still on his lap. He wasn't wearing any clothes. Why would he need to? It was his house and he lived by himself; there was no one to be modest with. The young man walked to the door and into the hallway. He always kept the hallway lights on during the night. He walked down the hall, passing three rooms – two vacant bedrooms on the right and a bathroom on the left. When he reached the end of the hall, he switched off the lights and continued to walk downstairs, passed his living room, and into the kitchen dining room. He opened the fridge and looked for something to eat. It was almost empty. _Better buy groceries_. He shut the fridge and left the kitchen.

He walked back upstairs to his bedroom and into the bathroom. He entered the bathtub. He closed the shower curtain, then turned on the shower, and set the temperature at an almost boiling heat. He began to think of what to do with the rest of his day. The young man hadn't made any plans aside from buying groceries. As he contemplated, he washed his hair, lathered himself in soap, and rinsed off. He was initially thinking of spending time with his friends, but started thinking about his brother. He adored his brother and thought of him gaily. _Ber is probably the greatest guy to have ever been born. He's just so perfect. He's smart, well-mannered, athletic, quiet, and his body…it's..._ The man lingered on the thought of his brother's body. He imagined himself underneath it, staring up into his brother's beautiful turquoise eyes, his hands on his handsome face. Imagined them passionately kissing and _bonding_. Imagined himself waking up his brother's arms, his brother smiling at him, and kissing him on the forehead. When the man finally finished fantasizing about his sibling, thirty-two minutes had gone by and he had done nothing except stand in the hot shower.

When he finished showering, he grabbed one of the towels off the towel rack and got out of the tub. He dried himself off and wrapped the towel around his waist. He walked over to the sink and wiped his hand over the mirror to remove the layer of condensation. He then took the toothbrush from the side of the sink, squirted on some toothpaste, and started brushing. " _I'll probably visit him later_ " he thought to himself. Once he was done brushing, he entered his room and got a change of clothes. He grabbed his wallet and his phone, and headed out to buy groceries and eat lunch. When he got home from shopping, he didn't do all that much. He lay on the couch, watched television, played video games, and messaged his friends. He checked the time on his phone: _7:35p.m. I guess I'll go see him now_.

He walked out his house and stuck a key into a red 2013 Toyota Corolla, then got into the car. After starting it, he checked himself in the rear-view mirror and moved his hand through his messy blond hair. He backed out his driveway and sped down the street and onto the main road. He was excited to visit his _perfect little brother_ – though the last time he visited was the week before, any amount of time of them being apart was an eternity.

He reversed into the driveway of an average-looking brown house, making sure to not park too close to garage door. After turning off the car, he checked himself in the mirror again. He grabbed a pizza—which he had bought along the way—that was sitting in the passenger seat. He got out the car and made his way onto a brick path that led to the front door. He rang the doorbell and waited. After a short time, the door unlocked and there stood his turquoise-eyed beauty, tall and stern.

"Hey, Grizzly Ber, is it cool if we hang out?" the man asked staring up at his younger, yet taller, brother.

Ber cringed at the nickname he was just given and let out a sigh through his nose. "Firstly, stop giving me stupid nicknames. Secondly, Matthias, you don't do things like that. You can't just show up to my doorstep and ask 'Is it cool if we hang out'. You should call 'head of time," he said monotonously.

"Sorry 'bout that, this'll be the last time I do it," Matthias replied.

"Yeah, sure."

Ber let his older brother inside and followed him to the living room, where they sat on a white couch. Matthias set the pizza on the coffee table.

"So, how was work?" Matthias asked, opening the pizza box and grabbing a slice.

"Started off pretty interesting. While I was on patrol, I saw a car driving erratically. I thought it was gonna be 'nother DWI, turns out to be a ten-year-old trying to run away from his parents." Ber let out a short breath – his attempt at a chuckle. He grabbed a slice of pizza. "There was also a bank robbery that led to a chase…"

"Mmm!" Matthias tried to respond, but he still had food in his mouth. He finished his pizza. "I saw that on the news! You were on T.V. Ayyee! Officer Berwald Oxenstierna keepin' the streets safe!"

Berwald glared at his brother; he didn't like being interrupted or when Matthias acted childish. "It was still a shit-ton of paperwork. Thank God nothing else happened and I could get home on time." He started to eat his pizza.

"Yeah," Matthias replied. He enjoyed these chats with his brother; Berwald wasn't much of a talker, so Matthias loved the few times he got to hear his deep voice. He noticed that a movie was paused on Berwald's flat-screen. "What movie are ya watching?"

"It's on old one: '2001: A Space Odyssey'. Wanna watch?"

"Okay."

"I just started the movie so you didn't miss much." Berwald took the remote and played the movie. Matthias got up to turn off the lights and sat down close to Berwald, leaning towards him and resting his head on his shoulder.

Forty-five minutes into the movie, Matthias stood up and walked off. Berwald was startled by the feel of hands pressing into his shoulders. He turned to see Matthias staring back at him.

"What 're you doing?" Berwald asked, though he already knew the answer to that question.

"I'm giving you a massage," Matthias answered, rubbing Berwald's shoulders.

"Y-you don't have to."

"C'mon, you work hard all day. You must have a lot of muscle tension." Matthias massaged his brother harder.

Berwald, admittedly, did like the feeling of being touched like this (since he rarely ever was), but he didn't want his brother to be the one touching him. He knew where this was going, and he didn't like the destination.

"Matthias, this isn't necessary, c-ca…"

"Ber, please. I know you like it so just let me do this. _For you_ ," Matthias said with a pleading expression.

Berwald sighed and gave in to Matthias' wish.

"Fine."

Matthias smiled and continued kneading his shoulder and upper back muscles, humming a strange tune while doing so. After five minutes, he leaned close to Berwald and began kissing him on the neck and on his cheek. _So soft_. Matthias took his hand and turned Berwald's head so they were face to face, so Berwald's beautiful turquoise eyes would stare into his ocean-blue ones. Matthias then pressed his lips onto Berwald's and kissed him passionately. Berwald did the same. Waves of joy washed over Matthias; he hadn't felt his brother's lips or tasted his tongue in a long time. He broke the kiss so he could move back over to the couch. Once seated, he placed his hands on Berwald's cheeks and brought him in for another heated kiss. Berwald put his hands on Matthias' waist and leaned forward as Matthias pulled him down. Matthias let a little moan escape and broke the kiss. He looked up at his younger brother with a little smile.

"I love you, Ber."

Berwald looked at him with a downhearted, fake smile. "I love you, too."

* * *

Sorry this part is so unnecessarily long.

I've never written a fanfic before, so can i get tips.


	2. Shift Change

All personnel that were present entered a briefing room and took their seats by white tables (which were in four rows of seven). Near the back of the room were two flat-screens attached to the roof for the officers who couldn't clearly see the projection at the front of the room. Berwald took his seat in the second row as his supervisor entered the room with papers in hand. She walked over to the podium by the projection screen and greeted everyone. She gave roll call, assigned their patrol sectors, and briefed them on any important details.

"Okay, surprise inspection time," she announced with a clap of her hands. On her cue, all the officers walked over to the walls and stood up straight. Shoulders high, chins up, feet together, arms at their sides, and straight-faced. Berwald towered over his colleagues, being the six-and-a-half-foot (6'6 ft./1.98m) tall giant that he was. The supervisor thoroughly checked each officer, inspecting their uniforms and gear, looking for the smallest imperfection on them. Berwald was always prepared for these surprise examinations. He would wake up extra early so he could have time for a quick shower, ironing his uniform, shining his shoes and insignia pins, removing any and all lint from his clothing, and making sure his sidearm was loaded and his flashlight was charged. When the supervisor got to him, she looked him up and down and told him to turn around so she could check his back-side. She examined his gear then moved on to the next officer. After she finished the inspection, the supervisor dismissed the officers and they proceeded to either their desks or their patrol cars. Berwald started his car and began patrol.

"Officer Oxenstierna, in service," he said into his radio.

"10-4," the dispatcher replied.

Berwald drove around, keeping an eye out for suspicious behavior. When everything seemed safe, he parked the automobile in an empty parking lot and began managing files and reports on the patrol car computer. Around two in the afternoon, the officer began scouting the sector once again. Suddenly a message came in through the radio:

"Possible burglary in progress at 1783, Jensen Street."

"Officer Oxenstierna en route." The police car zoomed down the road, sirens blaring, lights flashing. When he reached the scene, only one other officer was there, still asking a witness of what they saw. One of the neighbors had reported seeing a suspicious figure going to the backyard of the house. Other officers soon arrived and set a perimeter around the house. Berwald and the first officer checked the entrances, looking for signs of forced entry. The backdoor's lock was broken. The two officers cautiously entered the house, M&P 9's in hand, while the others investigated the surrounding area. Living room: empty. Kitchen: empty. After the first floor seemed clear, they split: Berwald would check the second floor and his partner would check the basement. Before he could even search the first room, Berwald heard a yell and gunfire from the other end of the house. He rushed to the source and found his fellow policeman lying at the bottom of the basement staircase. Bleeding. He crept down the stairs and quickly pulled back as two bullets flew into the wall. He returned the fire and heard a thud on the second shot. More policemen came into the basement, some surrounded the subdued burglar, others aided the wounded officer. After the scuffle had settled and the paramedics had taken the injured to the hospital, Berwald was given the task of informing the officer's family of his condition.

As he drove to the policeman's home, he rehearsed his lines in his head. _Miss Stacey, I'm very sorry to inform you that your husband has been shot in the line of duty. We are unsure of the severity of his injuries and he is currently being treated at Matherson Hospital._ He parked by the driveway of the Stacey household and walked onto the porch. He knocked on the door. Once the woman opened the door, her demeanor quickly changed from a greeting smile to a worried expression. She could tell Berwald was a bearer of bad news.

" Mrs. Stacey, I'm very sorry to tell you that your husband has been shot in the line of duty. We are unsure of the severity of his condition and he has been taken to Matherson Hospital."

The woman brought her hands to her face, covering her nose and mouth. Tears ran down her cheeks. Berwald, honestly, wasn't the best choice for such a task. Though he was careful in choosing his words, his intimidating aura and emotionless expression made him seem callous and distant. He stood there as she bawled her eyes out. She tried to quiet herself down.

"Matherson Hospital?" she asked.

"Yes."

There was a short silence. Mrs. Stacey faced the ground, put her hand on her forehead, and shook her head. She couldn't accept the fact that her husband had been shot. She couldn't accept the fact that her children may lose their father. She was trying so hard to stop from crying, but it couldn't be helped and she started bawling again. After her short burst of tears, she managed to suppress her emotions and stopped crying for the moment. She wiped her wet eyes with the palms of her hands. Berwald reached into one of his pockets and offered her a handkerchief. She shook her head, "No thank you." She cleared her throat.

"If there's anyone else you think needs to know, I could hel…"

"No, that's fine; I can make the calls myself." She sniffed. "Thank you, sir, for telling me."

"Let's just hope for the best."

She nodded her head and closed the door. Berwald walked off and got back into his patrol vehicle. _This is probably the hardest part of being a cop._ He started the car and went back to his normal duties.

Once his work was finished, he returned to the station. He entered the building and went over to his desk to see if there was any paperwork to be done.

"Uh, Be- Officer Oxenstierna, Ms. Cassidy wants you in her office," said one of his coworkers, standing behind him.

He walked into his supervisor's office, closing the door behind him. "You needed me for something?" he asked.

"Yeah, your hours have been changed; you'll now be working third shift. Come back at eleven p.m."

"Yes, ma'am." Next, Berwald signed out and drove home so he could recharge for his new shift.

* * *

Berwald reenacted his morning routine and drove to the police station. Once again, he walked into the briefing room and sat in his usual seat in the second row. A different supervisor walked over to the podium. The room was filled with unfamiliar faces, though Berwald did recognize a few. The supervisor gave roll call and started assigning their patrol sectors.

"Some of you guys will be doubling-up." He proceeded to name the paired officers and their assigned areas. "Oxenstierna and Väi-nä-möi-nen, you're on sector 5. I'm really trying my best here, but your name is pretty complicated," the supervisor added, with a kind of sorry expression.

"That's okay, you can just call me Tino." Berwald turned to the direction of the voice and found a blond young man with violet eyes and a cheery grin sitting two rows back. The man noticed him looking and waved. Berwald responded with a simple nod and turned to face the podium. The supervisor continued assigning partners. Once done, he briefed them on anything important.

"Any questions? No? That's good. Anyway, see y'all around." He gathered his things and left the room; other workers soon followed. Berwald waited at the door for his partner.

"Hi, I'm Tino. Tino Väinämöinen. Nice to meet you," the young man said once he got to Berwald. He reached out his hand. Berwald accepted his invitation and shook it. "Berwald Oxenstierna," he responded. " _I didn't think it'd be that strong"_ he thought, referring to Tino's unexpectedly strong grip.

Though he didn't show it, Tino was very intimidated by the man standing before him. _Why does this guy look so mad? Don't worry Tino, he might be super chill once you get to know him. But just in case, don't do or say anything stupid._

"Guess we should get going." Tino said with a semi-forced smile.

"Mm."

* * *

All that could be heard was the sound of the engine humming as they drove down the boulevard. Berwald and Tino had been on patrol for three hours now and neither of them had said a word to each other. Tino couldn't bear the awkward atmosphere. He really wanted to say something, but he was too scared to. _Don't risk it. You can't say anything stupid if you don't say anything at all._ He just stared out the window and looked at the neon signs that decorated the stores and clubs. Berwald was also apparent of the awkward air, but he couldn't think of anything to say. He was used to working alone and wasn't much of a talker. _We've been driving for a while; maybe he's hungry. Should I ask him if he wants somethi…_

"The lights are nice," Tino murmured. He was entranced by the glowing signs. He didn't avert his gaze from them and didn't even realize he said something.

"Yeah."

"Hmm?" Tino turned to Berwald.

"The lights are nice," Berwald repeated.

"Yup," Tino said, realizing he had spoken earlier. Things went quiet for another five minutes and the discomforting atmosphere was coming back again. Neither of them wanted that.

"Are you hungry?" Berwald finally asked.

"Uh, kinda hungry I guess."

"What do you want to eat?"

"I'll go for anything; most places are closed anyway." Tino shrugged.

"I think I saw a 24-hour diner a while back; is that fine with you?"

"I'm fine with it."

It didn't take long for them to reach the restaurant. Most people weren't up at this hour, so there weren't many cars on the roads. A little bell rang when they entered the diner. The two sat at a booth by the window with blue leather seats and a white table in between. A chipper young red-head in a light teal waitress uniform came up to them with a small pad and pen.

"Hello, welcome to Barbie's Diner. What can I get for you?"

"Are you serving breakfast right now?" Tino asked as he lifted the laminated menu from the table.

"Yes, sir."

"Okay, I'll take the pancakes with bacon and eggs."

"Mmhhmm, would you like your eggs scrambled or sunny-side up?"

"Scrambled."

"Okay. And for you?" she asked, turning to Berwald.

"I'll just take a burger and fries."

"O-kay. And drinks?" she asked jotting down their orders.

"Coffee with whipped cream," Tino answered.

"Plain coffee for me."

"Anything else?"

"No, thank you," Tino answered. Berwald shook his head.

"Okay." The waitress repeated their order and informed them that they'd have to wait ten to fifteen minutes then went over to the counter. Tino noticed there weren't many people at the diner – just a few employees and four other customers. He also saw a vintage jukebox at the other end of the diner, under a black and white framed photograph of Frankie Valli. He started humming a familiar tune and tapping his fingers on the table. Berwald was aware of the humming – and he knew the song – but made no comment. The waitress soon handed them their food and left. They ate quietly, but Tino kept his eye on the jukebox. Once they finished eating and paid for their food – as well as left a tip for the waitress – Tino walked over to the machine.

"Does this thing still work?" he asked turning to the waitress who was now by the cashier.

"I think so," she replied.

Berwald walked over to Tino and looked at the jukebox. Then he moved his gaze up to the photograph. It had Valli's signature. _That's cool._ After inserting three coins into the machine, Tino leaned over it and read the names and numbers of the songs. _97\. Can't_ _Take My Eyes Off You – Frankie Valli_. He pressed the correlating buttons and watched the machine light up and begin to play the song.

Tino hummed along to the song and Berwald tapped his finger on top of the jukebox. Tino began to slowly bob his head and sang quietly to himself. Berwald couldn't hear Tino's voice since it was so low and the jukebox was so loud, but he watched him mouth the words of the song. There was something calming about watching Tino lip syncing that made Berwald kind of sleepy – despite having just drank coffee. Tino felt like someone was staring, but when he turned, all he saw was Berwald looking at the jukebox and tapping his fingers.

When the song ended, Tino waved to the employees and they left the diner. They got back into the car and patrolled the area a few more times – in silence. They caught three DUIs. Once the shift ended, they drove to the police station and checked out.

"See you tomorrow, um, I mean tonight, I guess," Tino said waving to his partner.

Nodding his head was Berwald's only response. He drove home, got into his bedroom, and fell onto the bed. He was exhausted from having to work two shifts in the same day. He looked at the alarm clock beside his bed. _7:15 a.m._ He shut his eyes. His rest was short-lived, though. He didn't even have enough time to actually fall asleep before his phone started buzzing. He brought it to his face to see who the message was from. _Matthias._ He dropped his phone at his side without even reading the message. He had been in a pretty good mood since he left the diner and he didn't want Matthias to ruin it. He ignored the buzzing coming from his phone and drifted off to sleep.


	3. An Unpleasant Stroll Down Memory Lane

Italicized quotes are text messages. punctuation is purposely incorrect

* * *

" _hey Ber, u up"_ Matthias sent from his phone.

" _Ber?"_

" _c'mon bruh, I kno ur awake -_-"_

" _is it cool if we hang out at the mall l8r around like 4:00p.m."_ Matthias hit send. Today he had woken up earlier than usual and he was extremely bored. He just lay in bed waiting for Berwald's reply. Minutes. Hours. It still didn't come. When Matthias realized Berwald wasn't gonna text back anytime soon, he decided to take a shower and eat breakfast. And once again, his shower was extended due to indecent thoughts.

He sat in the living room, a bowl of cereal in one hand, a spoon in the other, watching a children's show - there weren't many other options since it was still morning on a weekday, plus, he liked them. His phone started vibrating. _Is it Ber?_ He quickly put his food on the coffee table and grabbed his phone.

" _Anyone up rn?"_ flashed on his screen in a speech bubble. It wasn't him. Matthias was a bit disappointed, but at least now he had someone to talk to. " _I'm up,"_ Matthias replied.

" _Dude, im bored af and i don't have anything to do. wanna go somewhere later"_

 _"where"_ Matthias texted.

 _"movie theater?"_

" _cool, what time"_ A third party had entered their chat.

" _uh, 2:00"_ Matthias answered.

" _sure"_

Matthias laid his phone next to him on the couch and continued eating. Now he had plans to go to the theater with his friends. He stood up and walked over to the kitchen dining room to put the bowl in the dish washer, but before he even left the living room, his phone started buzzing again. He ran over to the couch and snatched his phone.

" _wait, who's driving?"_

" _I'll_ drive" replied the other member of the chat.

* * *

Two o'clock soon arrived and Matthias was already prepared - dressed in a his old football jersey and skinny jeans, wallet in his pocket, and his phone fully charged. He waited in his living room for his friends to arrive, lounging on the couch and watching television. _BEEP! BEEEEEP!_ Loud honks were coming from outside. Matthias peered through the window curtains and located the source of the all the racket: a black BMW x6 parked in front of his driveway. He left his house, locking the door behind him, and walked over to the passenger side of the car. As he entered the vehicle, rock music blasted from the speakers making more of a racket in the street.

"Dude, turn that shit down; it's so loud," he commented, wincing at the ear-splitting noise.

"First of all it's not _shit_ , it's music," retorted the albino behind the steering wheel, "secondly, it's my car, so I control the aux." The duo sped off to pick up the third member of their group and later arrived at their destination.

"Dammit, the theater's full of kids!" exclaimed one of the friends – a tan, young blond wearing half framed glasses. The local theater was a popular after school hangout for the students of a nearby middle school. "You guys wanna go somewhere else?"

"The park?" Matthias suggested. The others had a short discussion and agreed. The driver steered the car out of the theater parking lot and onto the main road.

* * *

The park brought back childhood memories for Matthias. He grew up around the area. He remembered how he and his friends walked around this place after school, how he used to play ball in the grass, messing around in the play ground, and all the bruises and scrapes and grass stains he got from falling. He accidentally made Berwald cry once when he kicked the ball too hard and it hit the poor kid square in the stomach. He, Berwald, and another friend would also go around collecting acorns or pretty rocks, but were ultimately forced to leave them at the park. As he got older, childish games turned into trying not to get caught smoking and making out under the oak tree. Once, late into the night, he and his friends snuck out into the park and chugged some swiped beers. Sadly, their exploits were exposed when surrounding houses reported noise complaints to the police. The drunk teens were immediately caught and Matthias got one hell of a beating when he got home. On the bright side, he couldn't remember most of it from how drunk he was and they went right back to doing it the next weekend. He and his classmates would also brag about their sexual prowess or plan "little get-togethers." Berwald started hanging out with his brother less and less since he wasn't interested in such things, but Matthias dragged him back into it. Berwald did actually get drunk with them on one occasion – due to peer pressure and promises that no one would snitch – and flirted with some of the girls. He was about to flirt with the guys, too, but luckily Matthias stopped him before his _little secret_ would be made public. G _ood times._

* * *

After a short drive, the trio reached the grounds. They hopped out the car once the driver had parked and they strolled around the area – talking about what was going on in their lives, cracking jokes, messing around. They stopped walking and sat on a picnic bench under the shade of a large oak tree. The albino got up from his seat and stood in front of his friends to continue telling, and acting out, a humorous story.

"Oh my God, Lud was so drunk. He was going around screaming at people to fight him in German, those poor souls. They were so confused; just imagine: you're minding your own business, right? Then some drunk guy shows up and starts yelling 'Kämpfe mit mir !'" They all broke into laughter, but Matthias soon stopped once he saw a familiar area. From across the park, he recognized the street that led to his old neighborhood. He tried not to think about it. The three of them got up from the bench and continued walking around the park. The entire time, something at the back of Matthias' mind told him to go down that street. It didn't take long before Matthias gave in.

"Guys, I'm just gonna head over to the bathroom, so… yeah. Later." He walked off, leaving the other two by the playground. He ambled down the familiar street and into a familiar neighborhood. He walked three houses down and stopped in front of a white house on his right. It didn't look all that different from any other family home, but the mere sight of it made his skin crawl. He hated those white walls. He hated the house; he wanted to bash the windows, blast holes in the walls, and burn it down. He hated what happened within those light yellow walls. All the screaming and the fighting and the beating. It was all terrible. To think he ever actually loved the person who ruined his life was beyond him. But it was also the place Berwald was born. Where they played with one another and bonded. This was where Matthias fell in love with him at first sight.

"Hey!" greeted an old voice. Mathias turned in the direction of the sound and saw an elderly figure waving on the porch of the neighboring house.

"Hi!" Matthias waved back to the old man. He tread across the lawn and met with the man on the porch.

"It's been a while, Mattie, since the last time I've seen ya. Look at how big you got." It has been a while, hasn't it? He rarely ever visited the people inside. He wasn't really sure when was the last time he came to meet them face to face. His mother would call occasionally and invite him over, but he never actually came. he may haven't even set foot in the neighborhood since he left college. Berwald did come here on occasion. It would be cold of him to just neglect his mother... and father, I guess.

Matthias and the man shook hands.

"Yeah. It's really nice to see you, Mr. McKullen. How's the family doing?" Matthias replied. Matthias had known McKullen his entire life. He and his family were good neighbors; they were really nice to him and Berwald. He played football with the brothers, his wife would make treats for them, and their son would usually invite them over to play on game night. They knew what was going on in the Kohler-Oxenstierna household, but did nothing to stop it. Cowardly bystanders. They just tried to make the boys happy.

"They're doing good," McKullen nodded and put his hands on his hips. "How are things with you and Berwald?"

"We're fine." Matthias answered smiling. They started catching up on what had happened in each other's lives— Matthias' culinary career, bragging about all the crazy adventures Berwald went on as a police officer, how McKullen had taken up wood crafting as a hobby and somehow ending up on the painful topic of how he lost his son in a drunk-driving incident two years prior.

"Oh, my condolences," Matthias gulped. It was quite saddening to hear the loss of a childhood friend; it was even more distressing to just be hearing about it now, two years after it happened, and not even be invited to the funeral, but, in all fairness, the two had completely cut each other off by high school. He and the McKullens' boy were close growing up, Jeremy even being one of his first crushes. They played together from childhood and grew up with one another. However, the people they associated themselves with in middle and highschool drew them apart; Matthias being an archetypical jock, whose after school games and practices as well as extracurricular cooking club meetings took up a lot of his time out of school. It didn't help that his circle of friends involved themselves in activities that Jeremy's morality wouldn't allow him to be a part of. Jeremy was a normal; not necessarily a nobody, but still a name only known by his teacher's and some of his classmates. He did participate on the men's volleyball team, but that was a sport that didn't get as much attention at their school as football, basket ball, and American football, so he received only a few pats on the back from friends and students who actually heard of the teams achievements. They didn't have any of the same classes; Jeremy was two years older than Matthias, after all, but they rarely ever bumped into one another in the halls. When Jeremy did see Matthias in the hall, he was usually chatting it up with some girl. When they managed to finally talk to one another, they were just short awkward catch-ups like the one he was having with Mister McKullen right now. They would make plans to meet up and reignite old flames, but ended up bailing on one another. They sent the occasional text, but later even those were left unanswered until they were finally left in the obscurity of each other's forgotten memories.

Matthias gaze drifted back to the plain white house, pupils twitching from the house to the unkempt lawn. "Um, are they still… living there?" he asked pointing to the ex-home. He was curious if anyone was still living in the house. The driveway was empty and the lawn was full of weeds – though it was full of weeds even when he and Berwald were still living there.

"Yeah. I think they just went out for a drive. Were you planning to see them?"

"Yeah, but I'll come another time since they aren't here." He lied. Matthias wasn't planning on seeing his parents; he didn't even know why he came back to this neighborhood. It might piss them off to hear that he came to talk to the neighbors and not his own folks, but he really wasn't in the mood to see his father. "Well, I better get going; my friends are probably waiting for me at the park."

" 'Kay, well, drop by anytime." The two men hugged and Matthias walked off.

"See ya!" Matthias said again, waving from across the lawn. He race-walked back to the park and met up with his impatient friends at the playground. They continued their conversation, but being the childish people they were, they decided to mess around in the play area. While sitting on the swings, rocking back and forth on his toes, Matthias finally got what he had been waiting all day for. His phone began to buzz and he quickly unlocked it.

" _No"_ Berwald texted. It was a rather late reply; it was already well past four. " _I'm exhausted. I've been working nonstop since yesterday. My schedule got changed so I'm working night shift."_

" _I get it, do u still have the weekends off"_

" _yeah"_

" _wanna go out around the town on Saturday, just walk around. I'll meet u at the bar"_

" _I'll think about it"_

Matthias brow knitted together as seemingly random thought popped into mind.

 _"hey, did you know jeremy died"_

 _"who"_

Well, that was an obvious "no." Matthias continued to twiddle his fingers against his screen, trying to remind his brother of their old friend.

 _"jeremy. our neighbor's kid remember"_

 _"uh, kinda. u sent him a rose once in middle school, right"_

 _"yeah"_

 _"oh, well that's sad to hear"_

 _"ikr, life is too short and unpredictable. that's why u should definitely meet me at the bar. make use of the time we got."_

 _"i said i'll think about it."_

"YO, DUDE!" the bespectacled blonde called from the monkey bars. Matthias' gaze shot up from his phone he gave the young man his attention.

"We're going t'go walk around some more!"

"Alright!" Matthias answered back, cupping a hand around his mouth to amplify his voice. He brought up his phone for one last message.

 _"gotta go. ily"_

He stared at the screen expecting another quick reply, instead her pursed his lips at the thought of his text going unanswered. He stood up from the leather strap seat, the chains jingling at the release of the wait, and he waltzed back to his group waiting on the trail.

After their little recess, they resumed the stroll down the pebbled park trail. While walking and talking, they didn't notice the young man – music roaring from his headphones, eyes fixed on his cellular device – zipping unsteadily towards them. He bumped into Matthias, face first.

"Sorry."

"S-sorry, guy," the young man said before twirling around and continuing his brisk stumble, quickly weaving to the right once he noticed a bicyclist about to collide with him.

Time flew by rather quickly; it was evening now, and the friends hadn't eaten anything the entire outing. They got back into the car and drove to a fast food restaurant drive-through. They ordered and waited in a line of cars.

"Do any of you have change for fifty?" asked the tan blond from the back seat.

"Yeah," Matthias said, reaching into his pocket. When he realized nothing was inside, he checked another pocket. _It's not there._ Matthias frantically slapped around his thighs, pulling out his pockets, only to find nothing but his cell phone. He flung his arms in the air with a heavy sigh.

"My wallet's fucking gone!"


	4. The Screaming and the Beating

She was blond with blue eyes. Her hair was short, with golden curls. Her eyes were blue as a bright sky. Freckles spotted her cheeks and shoulders. She had a beaming smile with deep dimples in her cheeks. And she was a _useless whore_ – well, according to Dad she was. This was all little Matthias knew about his mother. She and Matthias had quite a resemblance, though, Matthias lacked the freckles on his cheeks. He saw a few framed photographs of her, but never actually got to meet her. Dad always said she was "at work".

It was only Matthias and his father living in the house. However, his father worked nine to five on weekdays, so he would drop Matthias off at the neighbors' and the house would be empty most of the time. When the house actually was occupied, Matthias would wish he was back at the McKullens' home. _Dad was really loud and mean_. Erik Kohler was an easily-angered man with a drinking problem. But it couldn't be helped; he, too, grew up with an angry alcoholic for a father – who also had an angry alcoholic for a father that also had an angry alcoholic father, and so on and so forth. Matthias would usually play quietly in his room; he didn't want to risk making Dad more irritated than he already was. Nevertheless, Father would still burst in, belt – or anything else he could grab—in hand and beat Matthias relentlessly. After his beatings, Matthias lay in bed, soaking his pillow in tears and rubbing his fresh wounds. " _Maybe I was too loud?_ _Did I break something? What if someone is being mean to him at work, so that's why he's mad._ " He would always try to find an excuse for his father's actions. _Dad doesn't hate me._

Erik had gone off to work and Matthias knocked on the McKullens' front door. A brown haired woman with matching dark brown eyes – the lady of the house – opened the door.

"Hello Mat...OH MY GOD, MATTHIAS, where did you get that?" Mrs. McKullen asked, horrified at the purplish bruise covering Matthias' upper cheek up to just below his left eye.

"I-I-I," he gulped. "I fell while I was jumping on the bed. And I bumped my head on the floor." He lied; he was scared of what his father would do if he _snitched_. Bruises, lashes, and cigarette burns blotched his skin, but he would always cover them up with a long sleeve sweater and long pants. Mrs. McKullen welcomed Matthias into her home and told him to sit on the couch. She rushed over to her bedroom to grab the first-aid kit. She came back with the kit and knelt down in front of Matthias. She took an ointment from the kit and began to gently rub some of it onto Matthias' bruise. He winced and hissed at the sting of someone touching the sore flesh.

"Sorry, Mattie," she said, looking at him sympathetically. After applying the ointment, she went over to the kitchen and took an ice pack from the freezer.

"Put this on the bruise for a while," she said as she handed him the ice pack.

"Thank you." He held the ice pack to his face.

Mrs. McKullen turned on the television to a children's cartoon and Matthias sang along to the memorized opening theme song.

"Uh, where's Jeremy?" Matthias asked, turning to his caretaker. Jeremy was the McKullens' son and a frequent playmate of Matthias.

"He's at school."

She began to wonder. Matthias looked about the same age as her son – though she could be wrong—so why hasn't he started school yet.

"Matthias, how old are you?" He shrugged. "Okay, when's your birthday?" He shrugged again. She furrowed her eyebrows. _He looks about three or four._ They continued watching the show, learning about shapes and colors and numbers.

They later picked up Jeremy from school, who also asked about the bruise. Matthias gave the same answer as before. Not long after, Mr. McKullen arrived home. The missus kissed her husband at the door and he waved to the children who were now playing trains on the floor. He noticed the purple area on Matthias' face, but couldn't ask before his wife told him to step into the kitchen. They walked to the kitchen and she closed the door behind them. She was outraged.

"What's wrong?" asked the husband.

" _What's wrong_? Did you see what was on his FACE?" she exclaimed.

"Yeah, how did that happen?"

"He fell off his bed," said the wife in a sarcastic tone while gesturing air quotes . "Can you believe that? Honestly, that father of his is a damn monster. Why even have kids if you're just gonna beat them to death? It's disgusting."

" _Maybe he did just fall off his bed_ ," mumbled the husband.

She gave him a flustered look. "Jeremy has fallen off the bed, Wade. And not once have I _ever_ seen anything like _that_." She shook her head and licked her lips. "I need to have a word with that man." Mr. McKullen clicked his tongue. _Tch._

"This really isn't our business, ya know? We shouldn't try to get ourselves mixed up in their issues," he muttered with a nervous look in his eye. Wade preferred not getting involved in people's drama. He was a bystander who just watched things play out – never actually doing anything to change the outcome.

" _Not our business_?" she repeated with an angry and confused look. "He is a _child_. As a mother, I can't just let whatever is going on in that house to continue. Imagine if Jeremy came home with a bruise like that, HOW WOULD YOU FEE…"

"Dear, you're getting loud." Wade didn't want Matthias to know they were talking about him. The wife exhaled sharply.

"I'm going to do something about it." She fixed her husband with a stern look. "And you're such a damn coward, you know that?" and stormed out of the kitchen, her brunette hair whipping back.

 _9:35 p.m._ A black 1990 Toyota Supra pulled into the Kohler driveway and its headlights shut off. A dark figure stepped out the car and paced across the lawn to the neighboring house. Before even knocking the door, Mrs. McKullen opened it.

"Good evening, Mr. Kohler," she said with a forced smile.

"Good evening, Sylvia. I'm here to pick up Mattie," he responded with a matching forced expression.

"Oh… uh. Is it okay if Matthias stays over for a couple nights; he and Jeremy really wanted to have a sleep over." She wanted to keep the father and son separate. _Staying here would be much better than going with him._

"Sure." Erik could sense a subtle edge in her voice; he didn't like it. _This woman is honestly so fucking annoying; she needs a good slap to the face_ _._ But managed to hide his intentions behind a wide grin. He noticed the two boys playing with action figures on the living room floor and Matthias noticed him, too. Erik waved over to his son. Matthias smiled nervously and waved back then quickly turned his attention back to the toys.

"And Erik, how did Matthias get that bruise?"

"He slipped," he quickly responded.

"He slipped?" Sylvia wasn't satisfied with the answer.

"In the tub," he added.

"Ah, okay." She was trying very hard to appear civil, but this man was testing her boundaries.

Kohler brought his attention back to the young boy. "Matthias, you better be good while you're over here. Don't be loud and don't break anything," he said wiggling his finger. Matthias nodded. Erik and Sylvia said their goodbyes and he walked back to his house.

During the weekend, Matthias stayed in the McKullen household. They played games, watched movies, and even baked treats. _Why can't Dad do stuff like this?_ During bath time, he insisted on bathing himself because _he was a big boy_. In reality, he just didn't want anyone seeing his injuries. He clothed himself, wearing outfits that would cover most of his body. By the end of his little vacation, the bruise under Matthias' eye went down, but wasn't completely healed. Nothing was actually done to make a permanent change in the boy's life; the happiness was only temporary.

Soon it was all over. Erik gripped onto his son's hand tightly as they waved goodbye to their neighbors. After entering their own home and locking the door behind them, Erik shot a steely gaze over to Matthias.

"I hope you had fun 'cause you're not going back there."

" _Why?_ " Matthias thought – he was too scared to actually talk back to his father. Erik walked over to and slumped onto the recliner.

"Grab me the six-pack in the fridge."

Matthias did as he was told and took the cardboard beer holder from the refrigerator and set it on the coffee table between the recliner and the television. Then he rushed to his room. _Whenever Dad drinks that stuff, he gets really mad._

* * *

Matthias was left alone in the house while his father went off to work. " _If you get hungry, you can make, like, a sandwich or something. Don't open the door for anyone. And do some damn work; don't just lie around all day._ " Those were Father's instructions. Everything about the desolate house was terrifying to a young boy. The emptiness; the silence; the vulnerability. Matthias felt as if there were monsters hiding behind every corner, inside every room. The fear almost brought him to tears. _I want Dad back. It's really scary in here._ He ran back to his room – his safe house – and played with his toys and imaginary friends, trying to ignore the loneliness.

It was already afternoon and Matthias' stomach was twisting in agony. He hadn't eaten anything since his father left – he was too scared to leave his safe house to get food. He had a pounding headache from hunger and playing make-believe had gotten stale. He tried sleeping to take his mind off the pain, but he tossed and turned in discomfort. Once the pain became too much to bare, he set his fears aside and ran into the kitchen. He opened the fridge and took the packets of sliced ham and cheese. The bread was placed in a high cupboard and Matthias was still too small to reach. _What am I supposed to do now?_ With some quick thinking, he took a chair from the dining area and put it next to counter. He climbed atop the chair and onto the counter top. _Success._ He flung open the dark-wood cupboard door and reached for the bread. As he grabbed the bread, he was startled by a cockroach in the darkness of the cupboard and lost his footing causing him to fall back, hitting his head on the chair, and rolling onto the ground. He sat on the cold tile floor and wailed loudly into the empty house, attracting no one's attention. _Daddy, come back! I can't do anything and I'm all by myself! My head hurts really bad!_ He cried until he realized no one was coming to help. He sniffed heavily, wiping the tears from his pink cheeks, and took the cheese and ham with him to the living room. The meat and dairy combo would serve as his lunch – and later, his dinner.

Hours passed with Matthias just staring at the television – it helped take his mind off the " _scariness"_. It was already past midnight and Father still wasn't home yet. Matthias kept his energy up by drinking soft drinks and eating junk food. He was anxious. _What if something bad happened to Dad? Am I gonna have to stay home by myself?_

A quarter to one, the car finally parked in the driveway. Matthias turned off the television and raced back to his room – he was supposed to be sleeping at this hour. The front door unlocked and a drunkard stumbled inside. He came in with a ruckus, banging into the furniture and yelling.

"FREJA! FREJA! I'm hungry; what did you make?" There was no reply. "Dammit, where is she?"

Matthias pretended to be asleep, while his father slammed open doors looking for whoever this "Freja" person was. He banged on Matthias' door and flung it open. Erik pulled Matthias out of bed and shoved him to the ground. He straddled the boy and smacked him across the face again and again, wetting his palms from Matthias' tears, saliva, and mucus.

"Dammit, Freja, why can't you do anything? Your boyfriend works hard everyday and you can't even do something as simple as cooking a fucking meal? YOU UNGRATEFUL LITTLE BITCH!"

Matthias was so confused. _What did I do? I'm not Freja._ He screamed and cried loudly and gulped for air.

"I'm not Freja, Daddy! I'm not Freja!" he gasped, but his father continued to beat him.

When Erik was finally worn out, he walked out the room – still cursing Freja under his breath. This wouldn't be the last time it happened. Father would come home intoxicated, calling for Freja. _Freja, get me beer! Freja, I'm hungry; make me something to eat! Freja, clean the damn_ dishes!Matthias would always come, answering to the name. He would take any order that was given to Freja. He was doing most of the housework – laundry, cleaning, washing the dishes, taking out the trash, trying (and failing) to cook – while his father slept. He had become a servant – a _housewife._ Whenever his father wasn't drunk, he referred to Matthias by his actual name. He wasn't expected to do too much work; he was just a three-year-old after all. When Father was sober, he was Matthias; when Father was drunk, he was Freja. But Erik still beat him all the same.

Matthias was still unbeknownst to who this Freja was; as far as he was concerned, "Freja" was his nickname. Freja was the useless whore. The woman with the blond hair and blue eyes; the woman with freckles on her cheeks and shoulders, the woman with the beaming smile and deep dimples in her cheeks. The mother that ran away.

She was sick and tired of Erik's constant abuse. She fled in the night, while he was still out – having a one night stand with a woman he met at the bar. Neither of them were faithful to one another. She had fallen in love with a high school friend of hers. They made plans for her to escape, but they didn't include Matthias. She never told her secret lover about the child. They didn't have enough money to take care of themselves; how would they finance a child? And she was also a rather selfish girl; she always put herself first. She didn't really care all that much about her son; she didn't even want a child in the first place. He was a product of forced sex – the child of an alcoholic and a wayward teen. In the midst of a cool autumn night, she took her things and ran to the car parked in the street. They sped off, leaving the sleeping baby in the house by himself.

One night, Matthias had finished his work early and played with his toys on his bedroom floor. Once again, Father was coming home late. But this time, Matthias wasn't anxious about his father not coming back; he knew he was going to arrive. He was scared of what his father might do. He heard the door unlock and open, but it wasn't accompanied by the usual barking of orders. It was quiet. He heard the door creak as it closed and footsteps walking into the house, but his bedroom door didn't swing open. Matthias sat in his room, questioning the unusual silence. He peered through the door, but couldn't catch a glimpse of his father. He crept out his room and snuck to the living room. Erik was lying on the couch, still drowsy from the heavy drinking. After seeing what he needed to, Matthias walked back to his room. As he reached the door…

"Freja!" Erik whined. Matthias beckoned to the call and rushed back to the living room. His father was now sitting up on the couch, legs spread wide.

"Sit on Daddy's lap," he ordered.

Matthias was hesitant. Erik pat his lap. Matthias followed the silent command and cautiously approached his father and sat on his lap. Erik wrapped his arms around the child and pulled him close. He smelled of alcohol.

"I'm sorry, baby, for being mean to you all the time. Daddy's just been having it rough." He nuzzled the boy's hair and took in deep whiffs of his scent. "Daddy loves you; you know that, sweetie?"

"Yes," Matthias answered uncertainly. He was relieved to hear Dad saying all these nice things, but he was worried that their happy little moment would be short-lived.

Erik began kissing – and sucking—on his cheek and neck. "Well tonight, I'm gonna show you much I love you, and I gonna make you real happy. Tonight, you're gonna be Daddy's li'l princess."

The next morning, Matthias woke up beside his father in the master bedroom. Dad was still asleep. He scooted to the side of the bed and put on his underwear and pants that were hanging off the edge. He walked out the room over to the dining room. He took a chair from the table and pushed it to the kitchen counter. Matthias climbed the chair and the counter, then took a box of cereal from the cupboard and climbed down. He checked the fridge for milk; there was none, so he brought the cereal box with him to the living room. He sat down on the couch, but he wasn't sitting comfortably; he wriggled and squirmed around, trying to sit in the ideal position, but it was no use. His backside still hurt from whatever that was he and Father did the night before. Matthias didn't know what they were doing, but apparently that's what love is like. Matthias stuffed his little mitt into the box and brought a handful of cereal to his mouth. _Love is weird._


	5. Ice Breaker

The police car was filled with the familiar awkward silence. They were scouting the same district as before and Berwald had made no attempt at conversation during the first twenty minutes of the drive; he just kept his eyes on the road and his hands at ten and two. Tino was a very talkative person and he couldn't stand being mute for so long. He didn't want a repeat of the night before. _Are all of our patrols going to be this quiet?_ He sighed, leaning his elbow on the car door and resting his chin on his palm.

As the drive went on, Tino's chatty nature could no longer be contained. He inhaled and turned to his partner, opening his mouth as if to speak. But quickly changed his mind and faced his lap without letting out a word. " _Say something. Tino, why are you like this?_ " he thought to himself. He had never been this nervous around anyone before; he could start up a conversation with pretty much anybody, but this man was something else. _Okay, lets try that again._

"So Berwald. That's a pretty interesting name; does it mean anything?" he asked, turning up to colleague.

Berwald glanced at Tino. "I don't think it means anything," he said shortly. "Yours, what does it mean?"

"Well, I searched it up and I think it means 'small' in Italian or something like that. And I thought that was pretty interesting since I'm not Italian. I'm Finnish, so why don't I have a Finnish name like Johannes or Oskar or Otto or Ella – oh wait, that's a girl's name. But I really like the name Misha; that's a Russian name, by the way. I visited Russia once and saw this really cool circus. There were, like, tigers and contortionists and trapeze artists. I could never be a trapeze artist 'cause I'm pretty scared of hei…" Tino was going at a hundred words per second. He had a tendency to go off on a tangent during conversations. He realized his oversight and stopped in the middle of telling a story about how he and a friend ended up losing a bet to an Elvis impersonator. He had gone way off topic and he was worried that his partner was getting annoyed. He giggled nervously.

"So Berwald, what are you?" he asked.

Berwald furrowed his brow and thought on the question. " _What are you?_ " He repeated in his head. Such a vague question to ask. "Do you mean as in zodiac sign or … species? I'm a Gemini if that's what you meant." He was worried that he gave the wrong answer to a potentially easy question.

Tino snorted. "No, like, what is your nationality? Where are you from?"

Berwald felt embarrassed; he did give the wrong answer to an easy question. "I was born and raised in the suburbs outside of town. And I'm part Swedish and part Danish," he said stiffly. He took another brief look at his partner, looking from the tips of his black leather boots, up the dark navy blue uniform that covered his legs and torso – with rolled up sleeves at his elbows—to his soft round face. "By the way, I think your name suits you."

"Thanks," Tino smiled. He let the words replay in his mind until their meaning was changed into some sort of backhanded compliment. The smile faded and he blinked quickly. "Wait, are you implying that I'm small?"

"I could be," Berwald teased.

Tino jokingly gawked at the remark. "For your information, Mister Oxen- _stierna_ , I am a hundred seventy-five centimeters (5'9" ft./ 175 cm.) and that is average height for a man my age. You're just a skyscraper. Hmph."

"Ouch. You didn't need to use the s-word," Berwald replied.

"Oh, what're ya gonna do about it, _skyscraper_?" Tino taunted the larger man by waving his hands and moving his head from side to side.

"I'm gonna tell my mom."

Tino giggled, trying to suppress a roar of laughter. Berwald was wearing his usual blank face, but underneath the serious image, he felt quite satisfied for making someone laugh. He didn't think of himself as funny, so this was a personal win. The car slowed to a stop at a red traffic light. Tino tried to quell his joy and slowly stopped laughing.

"I'm not scared of your mom. My mom can probably beat your mom," he said.

"No, mine can definitely beat yours."

"No, she couldn't."

"Yeah, she can."

"Nope. Nu-uh. My mom was on her high school wrestling team."

"My mother took down her entire high school wrestling team," Berwald replied, even though his mother had done no such thing. His robotic tone began to show subtle amusement. He couldn't help but feel a bit delighted. _What are we? Five? This is so childish._

"My mom could do that, too."

"It was the boys' team," Berwald quickly shot back, turning to Tino. Tino stared back at him with wide eyes filled with excitement. He didn't expect a stern looking man to be so childlike. He chuckled. Their orbs were fixed on one another. This was the first time they had ever looked directly at each other without feeling awkward – the first time turquoise met amethyst. It was nice.

 _HONK! HONK!_ The horn of a car behind theirs cut through the silence and made them aware of the situation. The light had been green for quite some time. If they stayed any longer, it would be red again in no time. Berwald quickly turned his focus back to the road, put the car in drive, and raced down the pavement. He returned his face to its normal stern expression. Tino slumped back in his seat and looked blankly outside the window. They were both a bit red-faced from the unplanned staring contest.

"Boys' team, huh? She could possibly beat my mom. Maybe," he said in an unimpressed tone, trying to bring back the comfortable air. Berwald simply nodded his head without facing Tino.

Berwald finally asked, "So, what kind of music do you like?" without diverting his eyes from the road. It was his turn to start the conversation.

Tino took a moment to reply. He had to think of what to say. _Saying "I listen to screamo and metal," would make me sound psychotic._

"I don't really have a preference; I just listen to whatever I think sounds nice."

"Hmm," Berwald responded, nodding his head. "You listen to Frankie Valli?"

Tino shook his head. "No. I don't think so."

"Oh, it's just… I thought you did. You were singing along to the song in the diner."

Tino put on a confused expression and tilted his head. The gears in his head clicked as they began to turn. _Oh! The diner!_ He had completely forgotten about it.

"Oh well, ya know, everyone knows that song."

"Yeah, I guess so."

A juvenile grin stretched across Tino's face when his imaginary light bulb flickered on. He began moving spastically in the passenger seat – turning from side to side, moving his arms in all directions. Berwald turned to his partner. _What the hell?_ Tino looked at Berwald with a silly expression – pouted lips, furrowed brow, and narrowed eyes—shimmying back and forth. He was singing the song from last night, this time at a more audible volume, and a much more frivolous voice.

"Deh, nuh-neh, neh-nuh-neh, deh-nuh-neeeeeh…" he attempted to sing the instrumental portion of the song as well, continuing his strange dancing – forming a cross with his arms across his chest, then spreading them in repeated "x-y" motion.

He screamed the chorus, voice cracking and off key. The sudden burst of sound startled Berwald, causing his hands to twitch, almost swerving the car. _What the fuck?_ Tino pointed to Berwald as he sang – signaling him to sing along. He didn't; he just gave Tino a strange look.

When Tino's bizarre and flamboyant performance ended, Berwald continued staring at his partner.

"A-are you okay?" he asked jokingly, though a part of him was a tad bit concerned for Tino's mental health.

Tino snorted as he snickered. "Nope," he answered slowly, shaking his head with a devious smile.

"You're really weird."

"I know," Tino answered with another evil laugh.

Berwald drove the vehicle to the empty parking lot of a retail store. He parked near the edge of the lot, closest to the road. Tino unbuckled his seat belt and stepped out the car. He put his hands on his waist and stretched backwards, his spine cracking the farther he went. He took a deep inhale of the crisp night air and sighed loudly as he let his body relax. Being cramped up inside that automobile for so long made his bones ache; he needed a break. He turned back to the patrol car to see Berwald still holed up inside, managing work on the car's computer. He walked around the front of the car to the driver's side, leaning over it with his arms folded on the roof.

"Hey. You've been in there all night. Don't you wanna… _get out?_ " he asked looking down to his coworker.

"I'm fine as I am," Berwald answered blankly.

Tino pursed his lips at his partner. He said, "Get out, Berry. Get out."

Berwald looked to Tino then back to his computer screen. Tino didn't want to be ignored. He bagan swaying the car back and forth, chanting, "Get out, Berry. Get out." Berwald tried to remain resilient, not giving into Tino's distractions. Working in a swaying car proved more difficult than initially expected. Berwald finally succumb to Tino's actions and proceeded to step out the vehicle. Tino walked back to give room for the opening door. Berwald stood tall, closing the door behind him. Tino wore a happy and satisfied smile.

"Now what am I supposed to do?" Berwald asked.

Tino shrugged. "Anything. You can stretch, walk around, exercise, whatever."

"Then, I'm going to work on my computer." Berwald turned back to enter the car.

"No. No, no, no. No," Tino protested.

"But you said ' _anything'_ ," Berwald retorted with an indistinct sarcastic, defiant tone.

"Well, anything but that." Tino crossed his arms and his smile was gone. "Ya know, I'm starting to have _third_ thoughts about you."

"Third thoughts?"

"Yeah. I had second thoughts, but now they've changed."

"Well, what were your first thoughts?"

Tino was a bit embarrassed by his initial judgments, but answered nonetheless. "You look scary."

"What were your second thoughts?" Berwald stepped closer.

"You weren't that scary."

"And what are your third thoughts?"

"You're boring."

Berwald raised his eyebrows. "Boring?" He took another step towards Tino. Tino stepped back.

"I'll have you know, Mister Väinä- _möinen_ , I am not boring." Berwald walked closer to Tino and he walked backwards.

"Yeah, you are." His grin reappeared. He could feel the mood beginning to change.

"I am not."

"Yes, you are.

"No, I'm not."

"Yes. You. A…" before Tino could even finish, Berwald charged towards him. Tino spun around and ran through the parking lot. His heart was pounding faster each time his foot hit the ground. The lot was bare; there was no place to hide, just run. He looked back to see Berwald still chasing him and getting ever so closer. He had a determined smile. Tino tapped into his reserves and picked up the pace. He wasn't going to lose this intense game of tag. The gap between them widened, and Berwald saw this stretching gap as motivation – motivation to run faster and catch his target. Tino laughed as he sprint around the parking lot, swerving and zigzagging, trying to get Berwald off his tail. The cool air hitting their faces as they ran, the heart-racing excitement of the chase, the carefree atmosphere – it was just so exhilarating. They looked like children at recess; if anyone saw, they would have thought of the two officers as strange. But neither of them cared if there were onlookers, they were having fun. As he laughed and ran, Tino lost his breath the faster, losing more energy by the second. He tried to speed up, but it was no use. The gap between him and his pursuer was closing. Berwald spread his arms, ready to capture his target – but he was running too fast. He almost slammed into Tino in his attempt to grab him. He wrapped his arms around Tino's waist and lifted him up. Berwald spun around in an attempt to get rid of the excess momentum, almost tripping over his own feet.

"Am I still boring?" he asked, smiling and panting, squeezing his arms around Tino's waist and chest.

"Yes!" Tino answered, still laughing and trying to catch his breath.

Berwald tightened his grip. "Excuse me, what?"

"You're still boring!"

He tightened grip even more. "Can you repeat that?"

"You're boring!" Tino refused to say the words; he didn't want Berwald to think he'd won. He also didn't want Berwald to let go. There was something comforting about Berwald holding him so close, being caught in his strong, warm embrace – it was nice.

Berwald squeezed even harder. "One more time, I didn't quite catch that."

" _You're not boring!_ "

"Again?"

"You're not boring." Berwald let go of his waist.

"Yeah, that's what I thought," he said with a smug grin as he turned to walk back to the patrol car.

After catching his breath, Tino decided it was his time to be the pursuer. He walked slowly at first, but continued to accelerate until he was in a full-on sprint. Berwald made a double take at the young man approaching him and dashed away just before Tino got the chance to catch him. They played four more rounds, with their roles as target and tail interchanging regularly.

Their game had exhausted them. The energy they had used up should have lasted them at least another two hours if they had just sat quietly. They slowly made their way to the car. Tino insisted on driving. He knew Berwald was tired and felt it was his fault he was feeling that way. Berwald agreed. Tino took his seat behind the wheel and Berwald sat in the passenger side, slamming the car doors almost simultaneously. They had to adjust their seats due to their size differences – Berwald moving his back for more leg room and Tino moving his forward to reach the pedals. Once they were accommodated and their seat belts were buckled, Tino started the patrol car and exited the empty lot, onto the road.

"Well, that was fun," Tino yawned.

"Yeah." Berwald also let out a yawn. He rested his head back on the seat.

The chase left them with an appetite.

"You hungry?" Tino asked.

"Yes." Berwald could see the bright sign of a fast food restaurant just up ahead. "Wanna try that place?"

Tino looked over to the sign. "Okay."

He pulled the car to the side of the road and turned into the restaurant's parking lot. He parked at the side of the building and they got out the car. They walked down the concrete walkway to a glass door, and made their way to the ordering counter inside. Before Tino got to the cashier, he heard a woman's voice calling him from his right.

"Hey, Tino. Hey!"

He looked to the direction of the voice and saw a man and woman in black police uniforms with neon yellow vests and matching police hats. The woman was waving at him from her seat while the man continued to eat.

"Hi, Elizabeta. Hey, Sadik." He waved back. The eating officer bobbed his head.

"Can you order a burger and large fries with a small orange soda for me?" he asked Berwald before walking to their table.

Berwald nodded and walked up to the cashier to take their orders. He ordered for the same, except with a large cola. He paid for the food and took the tray to where the two officers – and now Tino—were sitting. They were already chatting when he arrived and took his seat beside his partner. He ate quietly as they talked amongst themselves – telling jokes and laughing and eating in between their words. He was now in the awkward role of being a stranger with a preoccupied friend. He was fine with just having to be with one person, but now two more people. This was hell for someone so reserved, but at least he didn't have to talk.

"So you're the new guy, the guy who just changed shifts, yeah?" asked the male officer, facing to Berwald. He looked down, snapping his fingers and sucking in his lips, trying to remember _the new guy's_ name.

"Berwald," Berwald reminded.

"Shit, I was about to call you Maximilian." Sadik joked. The other two chortled.

"Where did you get 'Maximilian' from?" asked Elizabeta, still laughing.

"I don't know," he said, raising his shoulders.

"So anyway, Berwald, how are you?" the female officer asked after settling down.

Berwald had been ignored during most of their conversation and he was fine with that. But now, he had three pairs of eyes staring at him.

"I'm good." He answered flatly. He took a big bite into his burger.

"Must've been so weird being partnered up with that guy." She pointed her thumb to Tino. Berwald simply nodded his head while he chewed.

"I'm not that weird," scoffed Tino.

"Yeah, you are. With all those demon noises you listen to." She made a low grumbly voice and uttered words revolving around death and pain and suffering.

"That's not how metal sounds like. Not every song is about dying; there are, like, love songs, too."

"That's exactly how metal sounds like."

"Metal love songs, huh?" Sadik said. His voice also became a low growl. "Let's die together!"

The three broke into laughter and the duo continued pointing out every strange detail about Tino – from his music preferences to his childish habits. Tino also nitpicked at their odd hobbies until it was the three of them making fun of one another. Their conversation went on – now with a new topic—and Berwald was just an ignored extra. They later finished eating, but still continued talking. When their chat was finally over, they dumped their scraps into the garbage bins and walked out the restaurant. Tino asked the two other officers where they had parked their car.

"We parked at the back," Elizabeta answered.

They said their goodbyes and went to their cars. As they drove to the exit, they waved to each other through the windows before heading their separate ways.

"Nice running into those guys," Tino said from the driver's seat.

"Hmm," hummed Berwald in his default emotionless tone. _It wasn't nice_. Berwald couldn't stand such situations. He didn't like talking all that much, but being completely forgotten was just as embarrassing. He was just glad it was over – back to being just him and Tino. He lay back in his seat and closed his eyes.

"You don't talk much do you?" Tino asked.

"What makes you think that?" asked Berwald, still lying with his eyes shut.

"You were pretty quiet while we were in there and we were there for a long time."

"I'm not really fond of speaking. I was pretty quiet growing up, so… yeah."

Tino nodded his head, understandingly. He was the same.

"You tired?"

Berwald shook his head, though he was a bit drowsy. He thought it would be unprofessional for an officer to sleep on the job.

"It's okay if you wanna take a quick nap."

Berwald shook his head and slowly opened his eyes. "No," he said in a low voice.

Tino drove back to the boulevard with the larger-than-life signs, clubs, and casinos, and hotels. He liked this part of the city. It was so different from the small town he grew up in. He loved the bright colors of the neon lights and the crazy nightlife of the streets, though he would never actually join in and be a part of the wildness. He just liked watching.

Tino parked the car in an alley between two clubs, where he could see everything without being seen – the perfect place to look out for potential drunk drivers and drug dealers. Tino had said something, but Berwald didn't hear. His mind had drifted off – dreaming with his eyes open— as he tried to stay awake. A couple hours passed of the two quietly observing taxis picking up and dropping off people at the raves, a couple folks stumbling down the pavement – nothing major. Tino tried carrying a conversation to help the time pass. Berwald mainly replied with nods and the occasional hum of approval, not really adding any of his own thoughts. He stared blankly out the windshield for any suspicious bodies. His blinks got slower and longer, until his eyes no longer opened. Tino continued to talk, unaware of his sleeping colleague. He turned to Berwald, asking for his thoughts on the present subject: if their perceived reality was all just a figment of their imaginations. Berwald was already fast asleep. Tino's lips curled into a little smile. Berwald looked so at peace and gentle. Without the strain of keeping his face in that grave expression, he looked…cute – a rather strange word to describe a matured man, but it was the only word Tino thought best suited his appearance. Berwald shifted in his seat, turning his head to face the window, letting out a quiet sigh through his nose. Tino wondered what he may have been dreaming about – if he was even dreaming at all. The sight of his snoozing partner made his eyelids heavy. He yawned and immediately rubbed his face. _I can't let this distract me._ He brought his attention back to the street they had been watching over, taking quick glances at Berwald from time to time.

* * *

Berwald woke in the now moving car, the sky a light navy blue turning to shades of orange and pink and yellow to the east. He rubbed his eyes – trying to remove the last traces of sleep. Tino looked to him, noticing the slight movement in his peripheral vision.

"Good morning," Tino said.

"Morning." Berwald answered groggily. He brought his palm to his face, sliding it down, and exhaling loudly when it passed his nose. He took his hand off his mouth.

"What time is it?"

Tino took a quick look at the car radio. "6:45"

Berwald kissed his teeth. _An hour and fifteen minutes._ He felt ashamed for sleeping so long – he shouldn't have slept in the first place.

"Nothing much happened while you were out, so don't get too stressed, okay? I won't tell anyone. I fall asleep too sometimes." Tino's voice wasn't as energetic as it had been earlier.

"Thanks."

"Had any good dreams?"

"No." Berwald shook his head. If he did dream, he had no memory of it. He looked to Tino. _Must be exhausted, drivin' around all night._

"Want me to take the wheel? You look pretty tired."

"Nah." Tino shook his head.

"Want me to buy you a coffee or something?" Berwald felt really guilty for putting all the responsibility on him during the time he slept. He had to make it up to Tino.

"Nah, I'm good." Tino was actually tired and could've really used that coffee. He was too tired to even start a conversation, nothing popped into mind as he drove up the street.

"Sorry for falling asleep."

"No worries, man. I told you I won't tell anyone. Why even apologize? People sleep."

Berwald shrugged. " Yeah, but what if something happened?"

"If anything happens, I'll scream. Or slap you. Or both."

Berwald crinkled his nose, letting out a small snort. "Please don't slap me."

"Then don't sleep."

They soon arrived at the police department. Tino was chatting with some of his coworkers by the water cooler, while Berwald organized the papers on his desk. During his conversation, Tino made quick glances at Berwald and smiled when he noticed Berwald staring back. Berwald gave him a small smile and brought his attention back to the papers. The other coworkers would turn to see what – or who—Tino was smiling at, only to find busy bodies too absorbed in laptops and documents. After Berwald had finished his work, he left the building looking back to Tino. Tino waved goodbye and he waved back. His colleagues finally saw who Tino had been looking at during the conversation and also waved. Berwald nodded to them before exiting and walked to his car. He drove home and flopped onto bed for another sleeping session.

* * *

Random fact about me: where i currently live, the first question people get asked is what is their nationality because most of this place's population is foreigners


	6. A Terrible First Impression

BRRRRRT! BRRRRRT! Matthias' phone alarm rang loudly. He had to wake up early for today was a workday. The blond rolled to the end of the bed and took his phone from the night stand. _3:40 a.m._ He sat up and brought his hand to his mouth as he yawned, his eyes watery. He walked to the bathroom, swinging the door open as he entered and flicked on the lights. He examined himself in the mirror as he wet the tooth brush and applied the paste. _I need to shave._ Five o'clock – or rather three o'clock—shadow had grown around the lower portion of his face. He brushed his teeth and tongue. He stepped into the tub and turned the silver shower faucet and let the heated water rain down. He made sure to keep his mind clear of any thoughts – if he started daydreaming, he would waste his time in the bathroom and be late for work. After he showered and dried himself, he quickly applied a thin layer of cream on his face and shaved off the stubble. When that was over, he paced to his closet and took a white jacket and black trousers. He put on his underwear and outfit, put some money and his phone into his pockets, and headed straight for the front door.

He got into and started the car and headed into town, passing houses and stores and restaurants as he drove deeper into the city. He drove down an empty avenue and parked the car in front of mint green building (though, the darkness made it look more of a leaf green) with large windows exposing the large dimly lit interior, which held tables and chairs, dining booths, and empty food display cases and shelves. A long black and white striped entrance shade ran above the windows and door, spanning the width of the wall. Over the entrance shade read, in large white letters, "Cute Confectionaries Bakeshop". He paid the parking meter and walked to the glass door, pushing it open. He paced passed the tables, passed the cashier counter, through a plain brown door which led into a heated kitchen. There were two other pastry chefs still in the process of baking and decorating food stuffs. After greeting them, he washed his hands and joined the busybodies. Once he had taken his tools and ingredients, he got to work. He mixed eggs and flour and sugar amongst other things, and whisked the batter. They baked biscuits, Danishes, muffins, scones, cinnamon buns and rolls and other things of the like. They needed breakfast pastries for the breakfast rush. More employees arrived and the empty display cases and shelves were slowly stocked with colorful treats. Busboys cleaned the tables and chairs, mopped and shined the floor, and washed the windows. Dawn broke and sunlight poured in through the windows, brightening the room. One of the cleaning employees walked over to the door and turned the sign from the side that read, "We're Closed. Bummer," to the other side, reading, "Come on in. We're open". The workers took their stations and prepared for the incoming customers. Not long after, a wave of hungry people – mainly folks who needed a quick meal before going off to work—washed upon them. The cashiers worked quickly – taking orders, bagging the orders, restocking the shelves. The display cases were emptying only to be refilled again with a fresh new batch of goodies. The kitchen was hot and hectic with bakers running from each side of the room, grabbing tools from the shelves, ingredients from the walk-in refrigerator and pantry, putting foods in the ovens. The heat emitted by the ovens and the constant pacing around made Matthias – like the rest of the workers—tired and sweaty. The breakfast treats were later replaced by desserts – cakes, cupcakes, fudge, pies, tiramisu, and other sweet foods—as morning turned to noon. The foods that hadn't been sold in the morning were usually eaten by the staff.

Though, the establishment was called a bakeshop, it didn't only serve baked goods. There were many different flavors of ice cream and yogurts, fudge, gelato, gelatin, doughnuts, and flans just to name a few. They also served many drinks, such as iced and sweet tea, coffee, milkshakes, smoothies, espressos, floats, and sodas. Everything in the store was sweet.

During his break, Matthias often ate at other nearby restaurants; he didn't like constantly consuming confections. At first, the idea of stuffing his face in sweets all the time sounded like heaven. He always ate breakfast in the bakery, tasted every flavor of ice cream, yogurt, and gelato, tried the pies, cakes, and gelatin, drank all kinds of sugary drinks, tasted the tiramisu, doughnuts, and flans as well as everything else the bakeshop had to offer. But his tongue had grown tired of it and anything too sweet would make him gag. While the other workers were scarfing down the cinnamon rolls and Danishes, he exited through the kitchen's back door. He walked through the alley back onto the main street. There weren't too many people out; it was a weekday, so most people were either at work or at school. He walked a good distance – not too far, but not very close either—and stopped at the white stripes that connected one sidewalk to another. Cars were still zooming across the street and more people joined Matthias as he waited for the pedestrian crossing light to turn from red to green. The traffic light glowed red and the cars stopped. The little man glowed green and the waiting commuters made their way across the street. Matthias walked into the little café at the street corner. Inside, there were three lines of people – one for every available cashier. He joined the shortest line, which only had four others standing. He pulled the phone from his left pocket and checked the time. He had to make this quick; he only had twenty minutes for break and couldn't waste it waiting in line. The line grew shorter and he was now second in line, but the man in front of him was taking too long to order. He was accompanied by a young boy – presumably his son. The child couldn't make up his mind on what he wanted. He kept changing his order, naming almost everything displayed on the menu screens behind the counters. When the screen changed, his order changed. His father finally took it upon himself to order for the child.

"He'll have a croissant sandwich with bacon and cheese with a side of apple slices and apple juice."

"I want extra bacon and extra cheese," the child interjected, peering over the counter.

The man gave his money, and got back a receipt. He and the child walked off to a two-seater table. Matthias checked his phone again. He only had twelve minutes left. _I'll just order something that wouldn't take too long to make and eat while I'm walking back to work._ He stepped in front of the counter. Across from him was a thin young man – or a flat-chested tomboy. He (or she) had long eyelashes, a sleek jaw, a soft chin, and pierced ears. They had short blond hair, with long bangs that partially covered their right eye; the remaining bangs were held back with two crossed bobby pins. They were wearing a white dress shirt with rolled up sleeves, gray skinny pants, and a brown apron. Their skin was pale enough that veins were visible on some parts of their body, and their exposed arms were bedecked with tattoos. Overall: rather androgynous in appearance. They put on a mandatory greeting smile, though their dull indigo eyes set off the happy expression.

"Hi, welcome to Cool Blue Restaurant and Café. What would you like to order?" the cashier sang cheerfully. Their voice was masculine.

 _Ah, it is a guy._ "I'll have, um…" Matthias looked to the screens, sucking in his lips. He looked back at the cashier, who was still looking at him, expecting a quick answer. Matthias felt as if he and the young man had met, though he didn't know when or where.

"Have I seen you before?"

"Well, if you come here between nine and three o'clock from Mondays through Fridays, you might see me."

"Yeah, okay," Matthias said, nodding his head in understanding. He did come to the restaurant occasionally and the man had worked here for some time. Maybe Matthias had seen him before, but never bothered to remember. He was a background character after all, a stranger, not anyone significant.

"Okay, so I'll get a chicken salad sandwich."

"Chicken salad sandwich," the cashier repeated under his breath. The cashier pressed the touch screen of the cash register, imputing the order. "And drinks?"

"Just water." Matthias began to feel impatient; he could feel the time slipping away. He looked to his phone and took another look at the man behind the counter. Matthias felt like he had seen this guy before, and it wasn't just in the café.

"Is that all?" the clerk asked, looking away from the cash register.

"Yes."

"Will that be for here or to go?"

"To go."

"Your total is…"

Matthias reached into his pocket, ready to pull out whatever amount of money he would need to pay. He felt soft paper bills and warm metal coins, not smooth, cool leather. Matthias finally realized why he recognized the cashier.

"Have you been to the park recently?" he asked quickly.

"Excuse me?" The cashier furrowed his brow, but his lips remained curled in a grin.

"Did you go to the park recently?" Matthias repeated.

The cashier shook his head, "No, not really."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure." The cashier nodded.

Matthias looked to the ground, disappointed. "It's just I went to the park yesterday and my wallet went missing, so…" Matthias looked back up to the young man and tilted his head with a sad pout.

The cashier put on a sympathetic look. "That's sad. I hope you find it."

"Well," Matthias poked the inside of his cheek with his tongue, "a guy bumped into me and before he bumped into me, I have the wallet. After he bumped into me, I don't have the wallet. Ya see?" He made a wincing expression to seem more pitiful. He hissed through his teeth.

The cashier oohed. "That's really, really bad."

"Yeah. But the thing is: the guy who bumped into me looked a lot like…you."

The cashier raised his eyebrows. "Wow, that's crazy. Well, it couldn't have been me," he reassured.

Matthias looked at the man thoroughly. "It _is crazy._ And I'm pretty sure it was you."

"Well, I'm pretty sure it wasn't. Maybe it was just someone who looks like me." The clerk shrugged.

"Maybe, but I don't think anyone in this town looks the way you do."

"Welp, who knows? Maybe I have, like, an evil twin or something." The clerk giggled awkwardly.

Matthias chuckled along. "Heh yeah. And who knows, you could also be the same guy who snatched my wallet."

The cashier nodded and smiled. "But I'm not, though. So if there's anything else I could help you with..."

"You could help me by giving me back my wallet."

The cashier narrowed his eyes and shook his head. "Sorry, but I can't give back what I haven't taken. And you still haven't paid for your order and the line's getting long."

Matthias looked back at the stretching line of waiting people then back at the cashier. "I could've paid with my credit card, but that was in my wallet – that you stole."

The clerk let out an annoyed breath disguised as a short chuckle."First of all, I didn't take your wallet," he said in a low voice. The chipper tone was gone and his expression went blank. He brought up his hand and pressed his fingers and thumb together, forming a sort of closed flower shape.

"Secondly, why would you come to a restaurant if you had no money to pay for anything? That's really stupid."

"I'm not stupid and I never said I didn't have any money. I just said my credit card is gone." Matthias was becoming agitated. He knew this was the man who pickpocketed him, but he wouldn't admit to it.

"But you were implying that you didn't have any money. You were like," he made his voice nasally and dorky, "ugh, this guy stole my wallet, now I have no cash."

"My voice doesn't sound like that and you just admit to stealing my wallet."

"I didn't admit to anything. I was imitating you."

"Why don't you imitate a guy giving back another guy's wallet?" The annoyance had become more prominent in Matthias' tone.

"Because why should I?"

Matthias let out a heavy sigh and leaned onto the counter, getting close to the cashier. He looked him dead in the eye.

"Because my brother is a cop. He can arrest you, but if you hand over my wallet now, we won't have any problems."

The clerk scoffed. "Why are you threatening me?"

"Last time I checked, the only way an officer could be a threat to someone is if that someone did something illegal—like stealing."

"Last time I checked, police protect the innocent and I am the innocent, so…" retorted the cashier.

"I know that you stole my wallet. I saw you with my own eyes. My friends were there, too. They saw you."

"Well, you guys need to get your eyes checked because it wasn't me," the clerk spat.

"Dude, I'm not playing with you; my brother's actually a cop."

"Your brother can kiss my ass." The clerk's frustrations were starting to spill.

The cashier struck a nerve. Matthias didn't take kindly to those who disrespected his little brother. "Don't talk about my brother like that, okay? You're just a FUCKING cashier. He actually does something important in society that takes skill and training. All you do is push buttons; anyone can do that. You're easy as hell to replace." He managed to catch the attention of a few people near him.

The tattooed clerk flared his nostrils and breathed heavily. He sucked in his cheeks and opened his mouth with a pop. "I'm trying really hard with you, not to seem as rude as I actually am, but you being an asshole isn't helping. So either you pay for the food with the money you claim to have or just leave."

Matthias sighed and slid his palm down his face. "If you give me wallet, I'll…"

"I DIDN"T TAKE YOUR FUCKING WALLET!" the cashier screamed, slapping his hands on the counter. His voice garnered everyone's attention – the people in line, the other clerks, the eating patrons, and the manager. It was as if time stood still. The workers serving food froze in place; the customers walking to and from the counter didn't move an inch, and all previous talking had halted. Everyone's eyes were glued on the two men and everything was quiet. So quiet, in fact, you could hear the soft footsteps of the manager's rubber heels as he walked next to the angered cashier.

"What seems to be the problem here?" he asked with a calm, light voice.

Matthias flicked his wrist at the clerk, pointing at him with two fingers. "THIS GUY STOLE MY WALLET!" He announced it loudly so everyone would know of the man's crime.

The manager looked down at the clerk, who looked back up at him.

"How?" the cashier asked quickly. "How could I steal his wallet? Did I jump over the counter, stick my hand down your pants, take the wallet, and jump back over the counter?" He was looking at Matthias. "Oh, what if I did some kinda Spider-Man shit; just shootin' my webs, _thwip_ , got a hold of his wallet, and yanked i…"

" _Lukas_ ," the manager scolded the cashier under his breath. He gave him a severe glare like a mother to a noisy child. Lukas went quiet and the manager regained his composure.

"Okay sir, but how exactly did he take your wallet?"

Matthias answered, "I was at the park with my friends and this guy," he gestured again to Lukas, "bumped into me. Next thing I know: my wallet's gone. I checked my house, I checked my friend's car, I even checked the entire park; and I found _nothing_."

The manager cleared his throat and glanced at Lukas. He returned his attention to Matthias. "I am very sorry, sir, but that is a personal issue between the two of you, which does not involve the business. The most I can do is search his locker for anything that doesn't belong. But overall, this matter should be resolved outside the workplace."

"Fine, go search," Matthias said in a rushed, agitated tone. The manager told him to wait as he and Lukas went back to the employee locker room. Matthias sighed loudly and waited impatiently, tapping his fingers on the granite counter top. He checked the time again on his phone. _Only two minutes left._ He sighed loudly through his teeth. After a seemingly eternal wait, the manager and clerk finally arrived.

"Sir, I'm sorry for taking so long, but I wasn't able to find anything of yours." He looked sympathetically at Matthias. "I'm sorry, again."

"Fine,whatever, I need to go back to work." He looked to the steely-eyed cashier. "I'm coming back with my brother and you're gonna be arrested."

"Bye; have a nice life!" Lukas wiggled his fingers, smiling sardonically.

"Yeah, go fuck yourself," Matthias cursed as he rushed to the door. He jogged across the street, all the way back to the bakeshop. He walked back down the alley, through the bakeshop's emergency exit.

"What took so long?" asked a concerned baker.

"Not now. Do we have any muffins left over; I haven't eaten anything all day and I feel like I'm gonna pass out." Matthias rubbed his temples.

The baker pointed to a steel table, on top was a metal tray that had three remaining blueberry muffins. Matthias paced to the table and devoured the muffins, peeling off the thin paper cups as he forced them into his mouth. Muffins were the least sweet food that the bakery served – in his opinion—and he was fine with eating them. He took in big bites, only chewing a few times, swallowing large chunks of the pastry. He coughed, a few crumbs flew out his mouth. After eating his light lunch, he washed his hands again and went back to work.

He operated quickly, trying to make up for the time he wasted in the other restaurant. All day, he had been working with rage. He was so angry. He knew the cashier was the man who bumped into him. He knew that he was the man who stole his wallet. He knew that the man was lying. Matthias beat his frustrations into the batter. _Tomorrow, that guy is so FUCKED! I'll tell Berwald to arrest his ass. He thinks he can just lie to my FUCKING FACE and make fun of MY BROTHER like that?_ Matthias tried to get his mind off of it, he needed to think of something to keep him calm. The best food is made with love, after all, not ill will.

All day, into the evening, the chefs baked an array of treats for hungry customers. Fewer patrons showed up as the sky darkened into navy blue. Business usually slowed down later into the night. The surrounding establishments turned on their colorful signs, still trying to attract the nighttime customers. Around this time, most of the bakers wouldn't work as hard as they usually did. Some used this time as break, others continued to work, but at a slower pace. Matthias used this time to experiment with recipes. His imagination was filled with all kinds of unique tastes. When the chefs had new ideas for sweets, they would turn their thoughts into reality. They served it to the other employees. If their coworkers liked it, the food would be put on the menu. Matthias came up with some of the popular recipes. It's kind of funny: he didn't even like them; his confections fit into the category of sickly-sweet that he detested. He was experimenting with his own recipe for strawberry cheesecake macarons. After putting the cream cheese filling and some strawberry jam on a light brown, graham disk, he topped it off with a little pink, strawberry flavored cookie. On top he put a small swirl of cream cheese, powdered it in graham dust, and placed a tiny piece of strawberry. He made four more copies of his cookie sandwich. Whenever he made something new, Matthias didn't immediately serve it to his colleagues. The first person to taste anything he created was Berwald. He took a small plastic tin from the other side of the kitchen. He delicately placed the delights in the container and snapped it shut.

He looked back at the ovens. They were holding trays of food, keeping them warm in case of later use. It didn't look like the chefs needed to work anymore; they had more than enough food and the bakeshop would close soon. He decided to leave work early. He said goodbye to the other bakers and clocked out as he walked to the brown door at the front of the kitchen. He said his farewells to the cashiers and walked out the glass door to his car. When he got to the car, he took his seat and placed the plastic container in the passenger seat. There were now two vehicles parked in front and behind his own. He carefully maneuvered his car out of the small space and drove down the street. He made a U-turn and sped in the direction of the suburbs. His frustrations were coming back, but he couldn't wait to tell his brother of what had happened. Berwald lived farther away, so it took longer to reach Berwald's house from the bakeshop than it did reaching his own home, but he didn't mind a long drive.

Matthas was now in Berwald's neighborhood. He drove slowly down the street, looking at the row of houses. He saw the familiar brown house – with its porch light turned on—and noticed a patrol cruiser parked in the driveway. _Oh, thank God. He hasn't left yet._ He parked his car in front of the lawn and paced down the brick path, container in hand. He rang the doorbell. No one answered. He rang again. And again, no one answered. He was getting impatient. Berwald never took this long to open the door. He began bouncing on his toes, waiting for some to come. He pressed the doorbell again, this time keeping his finger on the button, letting the chime stretch on. _Diiiiiiiiiiiii…_ The door finally opened and removed his finger _…_ _Ng-dong._ Matthias sucked in and licked his lips at the sight of his brother in his police attire, his muscular form shaping the cloth in his likeness. There's nothing hotter than a man in uniform – that is, except a man with nothing on. Matthias' eyes traveled down Berwald's body, imagining him without those pesky wears. Before his eyes got too low, Matthias quickly looked up into space and sighed loudly in exasperation through flared nostrils. The flame of frustration caught fire once again. He shoved the tin of macarons into Berwald's chest and walked in without being invited. He spun on his heel, turning to Berwald who was now holding the container. He shut the front door.

"I AM SO FUCKING MAD RIGHT NOW, BER," Matthias whined through gritted teeth.

"Don't make this too long," Berwald said with his usual monotony. "I have to go to work soon." They walked over to the den and he sat on the couch while Matthias remained standing.

"So I'm at work, right? And then I go on break. I went to this restaurant and the cashier, okay, I recognized him from the day before. The guy, HE STOLE MY WALLET and I start yelling at him to give me back my wallet. And he wouldn't give me back my wallet. Then the manager shows up and says, 'Sorry, he didn't take your wallet.' And he must be arrested."

Berwald stared blankly at his elder. He didn't understand the gibberish spewing from Matthias' mouth. "What?"

Matthias closed his eyes and began to speak clearly and calmly. "So yesterday, Alfred, Gilbert, and I we went to the park. And this guy – I don't know if he was high or something, he just looked out of it — he bumped into me and stole my wallet. Today while I was on break, I go out to eat and the cashier is the guy who pick pocketed me."

Berwald hummed and nodded as if what Matthias was saying was really interesting. He popped open the tin and brought a macaron into his mouth. He actually enjoyed the taste of sweets and savoured the foods Matthias brought him. Matthias paused the tirade when he heard the lid unlatch and smiled at his brother.

"How is it?"he asked in a much more mellow attitude.

"Ten," Berwald answered after swallowing the treat.

Matthias usually asked for a rating on his food. His brother giving him high scores always made Matthias' chest flutter. The moment of calm ceased and he went back to ranting.

"Anyway, the guy wouldn't give me back my wallet after I asked him so kindly, like, fifty times. And I told him that he could get arrested because thieving is illegal. I also said you were a cop and he said you could kiss. His. Ass. And the manager shows up and says the guy didn't have anything that belongs to me and all this bullshit."

Berwald said in his "I-totally-care-about-what-you-are-talking-about" voice, which sounded no different than his typical way of speaking, "Wow. What an asshole."

"I KNOW!" Matthias said with a pitch in his voice.

"But you should know better than to report a theft the next day. You're just lucky you happened to see the guy again. He could've gone somewhere far off by now. What do you expect me to do if he was outside my jurisdiction?" Berwald pointed out while he was chewing.

"Yeah." Matthias rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

"What did you have in your wallet?"

"My credit cards, debit cards, cash, baby pictures, condoms, that kind of stuff."

"Did you report it to the card issuers?"

"Yes, and I told them to temporarily close my accounts."

"Did you check your credit card for any unauthorized charges?"

"Yeah, they hadn't made any purchases. Can you go over to the restaurant and just… fuck 'em up? Arrest them. I want you to arrest the manager, too. He was probably in on it. They probably split the cash fifty-fifty. I NEED JUSTICE!"

Berwald looked at his phone and widened his eyes. "I need to go." He quickly stood up and rushed to the door.

Matthias grabbed his hand. "No, Berreeeeeeey." He sounded like a whiny child. "Justiiiice."

Berwald looked back at his brother, unfazed by his complaints.

"Please, mister officer," he pouted, softening his eyes. Matthias pressed Berwald's nose with his index finger and dragged it down. It tugged at Berwald's lower lip, exposing his lower gums and teeth. It made its way down Berwald's chin, under the jaw, and down the front of his neck, stopping at his uniform collar.

Matthias looked up at his brother with puppy dog eyes.

"Fine, what do they look like?" Berwald sighed, rolling his eyes. This was his job after all.

A smirk appeared on Mathias's face. "Blond, scrawny, super pale, wearing a barista uniform..."

"Stop right there. Give me a description of the thief rather than the cashier."

"Dude, they're the same person."

"What if they're not and you got it wrong? You could end up throwing the wrong person in jail."

Most of Matthias' suspicions were based on a gut feeling rather than what he remembered the thief to look like. In all honest his memory of the thief wasn't the best, but the sense of familiarity around the cashier, his drowsy voice, and his stoned demeanor reminded him so much of the pick pocket. They just had to be the same person. "Pretty sure he was blond, too," he answered uncertainly.

Berwald was growing more impatient. "Where do they work?"

"Cool Blue Restaurant and Café."

"Okay."

"I'm gonna stay here for the night, okay?" Matthias asked. He occasionally stayed at Berwald's house when he arrived late at night.

"Just lock up when you leave."

Matthias nodded in compliance.

"Stay safe."

"Hmm, yeah, I will."

Matthias placed his hand behind Berwald's head and pulled him in. Their lips pressed together tenderly, a quick good luck kiss.

Berwald broke the kiss then headed for the door and got into the police cruiser. Matthias watched as the car's headlights turned on and heard the engine purr from the doorway. He waved to his brother. Berwald waved back through the windshield. He looked back as he reversed out of the driveway. The car drove down the street and turned onto the main road, out of Matthias' sight. He was alone again. He closed and locked the door and slumped onto the couch. It was upsetting, how little the time was he and Berwald had spent together today. _I have to work all day. He has to work all night. When are we supposed to hang out?_ He let out another saddened sigh and buried his face into the couch cushion. He let his mind wonder into thoughts that he was used to having, the nice thoughts of how he wished things would play out that made him feel exited, but at the same time, unsatisfied and lonely. He lifted his head and looked at a door. He felt the urge to go to that door, an urge he couldn't resist. He followed his urge down the hall, in front of the door. It would be wrong of him to enter Berwald's bedroom. It was a private place. He wasn't invited in, so he shouldn't. But he has stayed at Berwald's house plenty of times. Surely, Berwald knew that he was going to go inside. He didn't say not to. Matthias twisted the knob and peaked before stepping in. God, it was such a great sight. As expected of Berwald, the room was kept tidy. Everything had a place and would remain in that place until needed. The layout of the room wasn't much different from his own, and by that, it was meant that the bed was in the same position, whereas, everything else was somewhere else. The closet was at the far side of the room and Berwald's drawer was beside the window. Beside the drawer was the desk. At one of the room's corners, were a bass guitar, its stand, and an amplifier.

Matthias' attention remained on the bed. The sheets were tightly tucked and the pillows were neatly placed against the headboard. It looked so soft and inviting. His right hand unconsciously began to undo his uniform, his thumb forcing the buttons through the holes. he pulled off the shirt and let it drop to the ground behind his feet. He stepped on the back of his shoe and pulled it off, then the other. He kicked them to the side. Finally, his trousers. His entire outfit was on the ground. He crawled onto the bed and dropped onto the the soft, soft mattress. Why would Berwald not invite him in here and deny him such a pleasurable sensation? Matthias invited him into his room plenty of times. They didn't do much in there beside talk and spoon, but sharing a bed was good enough. It would've been nice if Berwald invited him in rather than him having to sneak in like some kind of pervert when his brother wasn't around. He took one of the the leaning pillows and squeezed it between his arms and chest. He buried his face into its softness and took in deep whiffs of its scent and sighing out loud. A bed like this isn't for just one.

* * *

I'm late! I'm late, I'm late, I'M L8. sorry for posting this chapter so late. Blegh.


	7. The Fighting

Matthias zoomed through the empty house with a plastic robot figurine in one hand and a cushion bear in the other. He made them collide into one another, pushing air through his gritted teeth. _Pssshhh! Psssshhh! Psh!_ Tiny explosions. He shook the plushy vigorously and roared – not the sound of a fierce adult grizzly, but more of that of a small cub. _Grraarr!_ The bear's attacks were light head-butts against the robot. Matthias threw the figurine across the living room, trying to demonstration how powerful the bear's blows were. Another quiet explosion. He ran to the couch – where the robot landed—and picked it up. He raised its fist and had it torpedo towards the bear. But before a victor could be decided, the clack of an unlocking door interrupted their combat.

Matthias whipped his head in the direction of the door. Father wasn't supposed to arrive so soon. Matthias planned to complete the rest of his chores after he finished playing. He hadn't made the beds, dusted the cabinets, or taken the laundry out of the dryer. Matthias just stood there. There was nothing he could do. The boy accepted what he knew was going to happen, trembling as the door slowly widened. He wiped away the few tears that had escaped until they stopped. His fear and feel of helplessness were replaced by confusion. The person who walked through the door was not his father. It was a woman. The woman delightfully gasped at the sight of the child and briskly walked towards him and scooped him up in her arms.

"Oh my God, you're so cute!" she squealed.

Erik walked in behind her and shut the door. The woman noticed Matthias' tear stained face.

"Oh little guy, why are you crying?" she said, pouting her lips in a childishly sad expression.

"Who are you?" asked Matthias, completely ignoring her question.

The woman curled her lips in a grin.

"My name's Marytl, but you can call me Mary."

She made a strange face – filling her cheeks with air, sticking out her tongue, and crossing her eyes—trying to warrant some laughter from the upset child. Matthias giggled at the silly expression. He scrunched up his face and pursed his lips. The woman also scrunched up her face and pursed her lips. He stuck out his tongue and widened his eyes. She stuck out her tongue and widened her eyes. He flared his nostrils and curled his lips in a deep scowl. The woman did the same. He quickly changed expressions at random, trying to test the woman if she could keep up. She matched every single face Matthias could make and was awarded with Matthias' laughter once again.

"Mary," Erik called from the couch.

Marytl walked over to the sofa and took her seat beside Erik, the little boy set on her lap. She and Matthias continued their "face off". Erik watched in silent envy. His son was getting more attention from the woman than he was. He lightly tapped on her shoulder and said with a quirky smile:

"Hello, I still exist."

"I know, but he's so cute," she said, pinching the child's cheeks.

"Well guess where he gets his cuteness from," asked Erik with a wiggle of his brow.

"The dashing young man in front of me."

"Exactly."

Erik leaned in and pecked Marytl's softly on her lips. Matthias stuck out his tongue and gagged. _Ew!_

"Nasty."

The couple laughed at the puerile remark. Marytl decided to tease the boy by puckering as if to kiss him. _Mwah, mwah, mwah!_

"Eehhh!" Matthias squealed as he squirmed to avoid contact with her lips.

She laid a kiss on his cheek. Matthias let out a little shriek before hopping off the woman's lap.

"Oh no, come back little baby," she pleaded.

"No! Kissing girls is weird! I don't know you!," he exclaimed before entering his room and shutting the door.

Matthias sat at the edge of his bed his with his play things in his hands. Instead of making them continue their battle, he decided to make them settle their differences.

"We should stop fighting, Super Captain," he growled, gently shaking the teddy bear up and down.

"Yes, because if he keep fighting the world will blow up. Let's be friends."

After the combatants had achieved peace, Matthias focused his thoughts on other things, like the woman. He set his toys down beside him and contemplated. She was blond with blue eyes. _Maybe that's Mom and she finally came back from work. And only moms and dads kiss, so she is definitely Mom_ (he learned such information from television). _And mommies kiss babies, too. Why did she look different, though?_ She wasn't the woman in the picture. Her hair was a much lighter shade of blond, almost platinum. And her eyes were a greenish blue color. Her skin was also very pale and didn't seem to have a freckle in sight. Matthias fell back on the bed, spreading his arms and lay there, just him and his thoughts. Lying down on the soft mattress, staring up at the ceiling. Doing completely nothing made him drowsy. His vision began to blur. His loud thoughts were quieting down. The bright light bulb began to look like a white smudge. And finally, everything went dark.

* * *

Erik had brought home many women, particularly when he was drunk. They would always go back to his bedroom to have drunken sex, the noises of a banging headboard and moaning filling the house. One night, the door was left ajar. Matthias was sitting on the couch and watching t.v., trying to ignore the strange noises. He was used to these sounds, but was estranged to what may have caused them. He noticed the crack in the door and childhood curiosity got the best of him. He walked slowly to the door and peaked through the crack. Father and this new woman were in a compromising position - Father's pants and underwear dropped around is ankles, the lady naked and legs in the air. He was thrusting into her and moaned louder each time. Matthias watched with a mixture of discomfort and empathy. _It does kinda hurt when he does that, maybe that's why she's screaming._

"FUCK ME HARDER! HAAAARDER! MOOORE!"

 _Weirdo. That hurts, why would she want it harder?_

"Fuck. I think I'm gonna, I'm gonna - AAAAAH!

 _Weird._ Matthias quietly closed the door and walked back to the couch. Everything about what he just saw was _weird_ \- the noises; the lady wanting it harder; how Dad was doing it with some stranger. You can only do that with people you love, so Dad can only do it with him and Mom. _But maybe you can do it with strangers, too?_

* * *

But Marytl wasn't a stranger, or a hooker, or a one night stand. They met through a mutual friend. Erik and Marytl hung out with the rest of their associates, usually at bars or malls or wherever people their age would be found. Erik acted quite different with his friends than he did with his own family. He was funny and friendly, but very sarcastic. He was always cracking jokes and making smart comments about his friends. He was still known amongst his comrades as hot tempered, but this was never a serious issue. Whenever Marytl was around, he was especially jokey. He wanted to impress her with his humor. He caught a liking to her as soon as they had met. She was so kind and charming and very beautiful. She had her quirks, like her strange fondness for gory films as well as her very dark and perverted sense of humor. She was also a bit slow, so a few of his quips would completely fly over her head . But this was something Erik could overlook - and take advantage of. Erik felt so trusting of this woman; he felt as if he could tell her anything – even the details he had kept secret. Marytl's heart dropped when she heard what Erik had gone through as a child, saw the scars and bruises that decorated his flesh. She pitied the poor man and cried whenever she was reminded of his past. To think someone could treat a their own child so cruelly, it was heartbreaking. She also had a lot of trust in Erik - enough to give him her virginity. They had gotten very close and started staying with each other more than with their other companions. They're clique was quick to notice and continuously teased them as school children did to boys and girls who played with one another. The two would emphatically deny the accusations, even when their feelings for each other were o so obvious. They held hands and hugged. Erik would walk around with his arm around Marytl's shoulder and she occasionally sat on his lap. They've even been caught in compromising positions of their own. Marytl and Erik would always say that they did what they were doing in a "friend way", even when it was much more than that. They've never actually admit how they felt about one another.

* * *

Matthias blinked his eyes, adjusting to the change in lighting. His mouth felt dry and he was getting parched. He sat up and got off the bed. He walked to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. He took a plastic silver juice pouch and closed the fridge. The plastic felt cold in his hands and made his hands clammy with condensation. He poked the straw through the small opening and slurped the beverage. On his way back to his room, he looked over to the darkened living room. He could see the bright glow of the television. He got bored of playing with his toys and the images that flashed on the screen looked interesting. He walked over to the living room, still sucking on the straw of his juice pouch and stopped in the doorway. _She's still here_. Erik and the woman were still sitting on the sofa, her head resting on his shoulder, his arm around hers. She saw Matthias silhouette from the corner of her eye, turned to him and smiled.

"Wanna watch with us?" Marytl asked warmly.

Matthias didn't answer and simply sauntered to the couch. He climbed on and sat next to the woman. She took him by his waist and sat him on her lap. She kept poking and pinching and tapping his cheeks and bumbling in her "baby-voice." Matthias stared in horror at the screen, crying and screaming at all the violence and blood and the ghoulish monster. He dropped his juice and shielded his eyes with his little hands and screamed "Change it! Change it!" Erik rolled his eyes satirically, while Marytl snatched the remote and flicked the channel to a more family friendly program. She tried to sooth the frightened child by humming to him softly and reassuring him that the monsters were gone and there was nothing to fear. She rubbed his back gently. Matthias sniffed his tears to a stop and stared at the screen. Matthias was quick to change moods. He could be fussy one minute and happy the next. He giggled at the colorful creatures and the childish jokes. Erik leaned his head back on the sofa and groaned loudly. _Uuuugh!_

"Stop ' _uuuuugh_ \- ing', the baby got scared."

" _Uuugggaaaaa_!" Erik jokingly roared.

"What the hell was that?" Marytl asked, giggly.

"You said not to ' _ugh_ ', so I made a different noise."

Marytl and Matthias laughed. Marytl had always admired Erik's strange sense of humor. Matthias didn't know his father could be so funny.

"Well, don't do that either. It's weird."

As her laughter subsided, Marytl realized she still didn't know the child's name and she wanted to hear his adorable high voice again.

"So what's your name?" she asked.

The boy ignored. The television had already put him back under its trance. She asked again.

"What's your name?"

Still no answer. Erik tapped lightly on his cheek. This garnered the boy's attention. Matthias turned to his father. Erik pointed his lips, gesturing to the woman beside him. Matthias turned again, this time to the woman.

"What's your name?"

"My name is Matthias," the boy answered. _So cute._

"And how old are you, Matthias?" This was the usual follow up question when talking to small children.

"I don't know," he shrugged.

"He's three," Erik answered.

That was something new Matthias learned about himself, but he didn't think on it for too long. He was more interested in the television. As he got more and more absorbed by the show and its childish jokes, he paid no attention to the adult jokes being made behind him or the snorts and snickers that accompanied them. He barely noticed the little movements and shuffles going on behind him. There were naughty whispers and giggles. Erik laid his lips on Marytl's ear, down her cheek, to her neck.

"No, not now," Marytl whispered,"He's right there." She glanced to the boy.

Erik stopped the playful kissing. "Matthias."

The boy turned around on cue.

"Go to your room," Erik said with a devious grin.

"But I wanna watch,"complained Matthias.

"But it's really late, way passed your bedtime."

"But I'm not tired."

"C'mon Mattie, bedtime," Erik said, subtle assertion in his voice.

 _Hmph_. Matthias got up from the woman's lap and waddled to his room.

"G'night," Marytl said.

"Good night," Matthias replied.

He flicked on the star-shaped nightlight in the wall socket across from his bed. He walked next to the door and jumped repeatedly, trying to reach the light switch. He slapped the button and walked to bed. He climbed on, covered himself in his blankets, and slowly dozed off.

* * *

A deep sniff. The sweet baked scent. Matthias rarely ever woke up to such a smell. He followed his nose out of his bedroom, through the dining room, into the kitchen. The pale blond stood in front of the stove, wearing an over-sized grey dress shirt and her messy, long blond hair flowing down the back.

"Are you making pancakes?"the boy asked, eyes fixed on the pan.

Marytl jumped, startled, at the question. She slapped her chest and exhaled a relieved breath.

"Oh my God, Matthias, you gave me a heart attack," she kidded. "Good morning and yes, I am making pancakes. They'll be done in a bit."

"Okay." Matthias walked to the dining room, pulled out a chair, and sat patiently. Erik walked past the boy into the kitchen and wrapped his arms around Marytl's thin shoulders. He said good morning and some other things Matthias couldn't quite pick up on before kissing her cheek and walking back to the dining table. He greeted the boy sitting across from him. Marytl arrived with two plates of pancakes – one stacked with four, the other stacked with two.

"Thank you," Erik said, smiling, as Marytl set down his plate.

Matthias jumped in his seat at the sight of the hot fluffy golden-brown breakfast in front of him. Warm sweet steam rose from the pancakes and filled his nostrils. He took the fork from beside the plate and jabbed the pancake. Erik coughed to get Matthias' attention.

"Say 'thank you'," he reminded.

"Thank you," Matthias said, grinning up at Marytl before scarfing down the food.

"You're welcome," she answered.

Matthias and Erik ate quietly at the round dining table as Marytl went back to the kitchen to get her own plate of breakfast. She came back to the table and sat in the chair between the two boys. She joined them in eating.

"So how is your meal, Prince Erik?" she asked.

Erik was commonly referred to by this nickname by his peers. He bore a strong resemblance to the fictional "The Little Mermaid" character and his "better-than-thou" attitude made him seem like a stuck up prince. He had raven black hair and ocean blue eyes. Erik could be considered a good looking man with his strong jawline and deep dimples whenever he smiled. He wasn't very muscular, neither was he fat nor thin. He had the generic body type of a person who doesn't exercise or overeat and was considerably tall. His looks were a good mask for charming women and hiding his true face.

"My meal is fantastic, Princess Marytl," he replied.

There were times when Father wasn't angry and he and Matthias could just seem like a normal, happy family. Now, they were even more like a normal family, since Matthias now had a "mom." They would just talk or sit quietly and watch T.V. Erik would even play along with Matthias in his games on occasion. But no matter how nice Erik was acting, Matthias would still be a little scared – even if he didn't show it. These moments were fun, but always short. Erik could snap back into the snarling monster at any moment. But for now, Matthias wanted to enjoy the moment while it lasted.

Later that day, after playing blocks with Matthias, Marytl had to leave. She had already changed into her own clothes. Erik, Marytl, and Matthias got into the car parked the driveway, and drove into town. Matthias sat at the back of the car, while Father was in the driver's seat, and Marytl sat in the passenger's. They reached an apartment complex and Erik stopped the car by the entrance. Marytl kissed Erik before opening the car door and leaving.

"Bye-bye," Matthias sang, waving to Marytle while she was exiting.

"Bye." She waved back.

Marytl shut the metal door with a slam and walked into the building. Erik watched her as she walked away, more specifically: _her fine ass in those tight pants_. _Nice._ He smirked, pleased with the view. He winded the car through the parking lot and onto the road.

"Why does mom always have to go to work?" Matthias asked glumly.

Erik blinked repeatedly, flustered. He didn't expect such a question. He looked into the mirror and saw Matthias' reflection staring back at him. "What?"

"Mom's always going to work. Why doesn't she just stay home?" Matthias rephrased.

Erik sighed awkwardly. "Ma-Matthias, Marytl's not your mom."

"Then why are you kissing her all the time?" Matthias naively asked.

"Because I like her – a lot. And she's way better than your mom. Okay? _Way better_. Your mom is evil and retarded and I hope she's suffering with her new dipshit boyfriend."

Erik appeared calm even though he was seething with rage. It showed in his unkind words. A harsh scowl carved itself into his face. His feelings for his ex were climbing to the surface. He hated Freja from the depths of his heart. Just the mere thought of her made Erik want to punch something. _How could she just leave without any warning, with some high school dropout cunt? Leaving me to raise the fucking kid that came out her vagina, at least take him with you! God, he might not even be mine!_

"USELESS TWO-TIMING WHORE!" he cursed, pounding his fist against the car dashboard, as if it were that imcompotent woman.

He glanced back into the mirror. Matthias was ogling at his father. The boy was on edge, shaky. He knew the anger wasn't directed at him, but hearing Dad scream was always terrifying. He gulped.

"What does that mean?" Matthias mustered up the courage to ask.

"It means your mom is stupid and bad, so don't talk about her – ever."

"Yeah, okay," Matthias whimpered.

There was a short pause with only the humming engine providing noise.

"Ya know what, Marytl is your new mommy. She's nice and smart and pretty. And she's very good," Erik continued. "You like her, right? She makes you pancakes, and plays with you and thinks you're cute. She's way better than your old mom, yeah?"

"I don't even know my old mom," was Matthias' only answer.

"Well, your old mom is a bitch! And she hates you! That's why she left; she's never coming back!" Erik brainwashed Matthias with his negative views towards his mother. "She dumped all the work on me and left!"

"What did I do? Why does she hate me?"

"You did nothing, Matthias. It's just your mom is fucking evil and leaves her babies! Marytl is a good person and she doesn't leave people. You better get used to her 'cause you're gonna see her a lot. So who do you like better: your old mom or Marytl?"

"Marytl sounds way better than my old mom."

"That's good because it's true, so be nice to her."

* * *

As Dad had said, Matthias did see Marytl a lot. She started coming to their house more frequently and they would go to her small apartment. Sometimes she gave Matthias toys and clothes. At one point, she stopped leaving their house and started living with them. Matthias heard more of the strange noises, but this time was more accepting of it since Marytl was kind of like a mom. Erik's violence had gone down and he wasn't as aggressive with Matthias as he was before, though he would still give the boy a threatening look from time to time. While with them, Marytl cooked. She would make something different for breakfast, lunch, and dinner for everyday of the week. Matthias was glad for having someone else make tasty food instead of him having to eat junk food or ordering takeout. He was starting to get fat. When Matthias tried to do his obligatory chores, she insisted on helping or just doing them herself. He finally got a break from the hard work he's been doing. Marytl played along with Matthias. They played ball in the yard, built castles from blocks, raced, and played pretend. During bath time, Marytl bathed him. Matthias usually brought his toys into the tub and splashed around in the bubbles. Marytl would ask about the old bruises and scars. He usually answered by saying he got them while playing. This answer would suffice since Marytl wasn't the kind to think negatively. She kissed Erik before he went to work every morning and kissed Matthias before he went to sleep every night. He was becoming well adjusted to his "new mother". These times were nice, but like always…they were short.

Marytl had caught on to Erik's drinking problem. He would come home stumbling and stammering. She told Matthias to go to his room; she didn't want him to see this side of his father. But Matthias was already well used to this behavior; he didn't need to be told to go to his room, sometimes he was there before Marytl even uttered a word. He pretended to sleep, turning off the lights, turning on the nightlight, bringing the covers to his chest, shutting his eyes tight. From his room, he could hear them both shouting. He could hear his father's slurred voice screaming "Fuck you, this is my house!"

Marytl screamed back something along the lines of "If you don't stop drinking, I'm leaving you and I'm taking Matthias with me!"

"Leave and I'll fucking kill you! I know where you live, bitch! I know where your friends live and where your parents live! You don't even have a fucking job. How the hell are you supposed to raise a kid with no cash, huh?"

Their argument went on and Matthias could no longer hear words. He heard his father's grunts, followed by something shattering or something banging, either hitting the ground or the walls. Then he heard loud cries and pleas, Marytl's. Matthias heard loud spanks. Matthias couldn't tell what may have caused the noises: flesh on flesh, leather on flesh, plastic on flesh, metal on flesh - Dad usually had options when beating Matthias. There were heavy footsteps, a slammed door then silence. That was the sound of a normal night in the Kohler household.

Some nights, Erik screamed out Freja. Matthias would zip from his room. Marytl stopped him in his tracks.

"Matthias, go back to your room. Things aren't good right now," Marytl urged.

"But Daddy's calling me," Matthias answered. He didn't want to disobey his father's orders.

"FREJA" Another loud cry from the master bedroom.

"Dad's gonna get really mad if I don't go," Matthias was impatiently bouncing on his toes.

"Matthias, your father is drunk. If he calls you, don't listen," Marytl ordered. _Why did he say Erik was calling him? Who the hell is Freja?_

"Matthias, who is Freja?"

"It's not your business, now let me go!"

"FREJA! FREJA, get your ass here now!"

"I have to!" Matthias felt like bursting into tears.

"You don't have t…"

Matthias bolted passed Marytl, heading straight for the master bedroom door. He jumped at the high doorknob, only managing to turn it slightly. He was too short to properly get a hold of it. He turned the knob just enough for the door to slip out of its frame. The door creaked as it slowly opened. Marytl snatched up Matthias before he walked in and shut the door. She turned to take the boy back to his room, Matthias struggling in her arms. He punched and kicked and squirmed, trying to worm his way out her tight grip.

"LET ME GO! LET ME GOOO! Daddy's gonna get mad" Matthias wept, clawing Marytl's arms, trying to pull them away.

Marytl looked down and told him, "No, Matthias, do not go…"

 _Clap! Smack!_ Matthias began slapping his hands against Marytl's face as hard as he could, as if his life depended on it. He screamed, "NOOO! Let me go! LEMME GO!"

Marytl closed her eyes and winced from the sting of his assault. "Matthias, no. Stop that!"

 _Bang!_ The sound of a door swinging open and hitting a wall. Marytl and Matthias looked back to the master bedroom. In its doorway, Erik stood, his chest rising and dropping with his deep, angered breaths. Marytl and Matthias were motionless; petrified by the king of the house.

"I called you like fifty fucking times, Freja, didn't you hear me?" Erik shouted, stomping to the woman and boy.

"It wasn't my fault. She wouldn't let me go," Matthias sniffled. _It's not my fault. Hit her, not me._

Erik stood in front of them. He stared down angrily at Marytl, while Matthias tried to wriggle out of her grasp. He fell to the ground and scurried to Erik's side. Erik clenched the top of Marytl's shirt and moved forward, forcing her to tread back until her back hit the wall. His eyes pierced her own like knives.

"What right do you have to touch her, hmm?" Erik hissed.

"I don't know," Marytl murmured. She gulped.

"ANSWER CLEARLY!" He vigorously shook her back and forth.

"I don't know!" cried Marytl, tear ducts bursting.

"Then why would you touch her?" Erik spat.

"I don't know!"

"Is that all you can say: 'I don't know'? Why can't you give me a proper answer? You don't know, right? Huh? YOU DON'T KNOW?"

Erik kept on throttling Marytl. Her head bobbed back and forth, her tears spraying everywhere, the back of her head banging against the wall. After rattling her, Erik threw Marytl to the ground.

"Touch her again and I'll break your hands."

Marytl wept quietly, sitting herself up, rubbing her wet nostrils.

Erik turned and walked back to Matthias, who had been silently sobbing and scanning the altercation. Erik scooped the child in his arms and strode back into the bedroom, shutting the door behind them. Matthias buried his face in his father's chest, wetting Erik's shirt with his waterworks. Erik sat at the side of the bed with Matthias on his lap. He gently caressed his hand down Matthias' head, through his golden blond hair, down his nape, to his back, stopping just behind his waist.

"It's fine; I'm here. No need to cry," Erik said, continuously rubbing Matthias, trying to sooth him.

"A-a-are you mad?" Matthias sniffed, looking up to Erik.

"Why would I be mad at you, sweetie?" Erik asked.

"Because—Because I wasn't there when you called the first time." Matthias wiped away his tears with his lower palm.

"It's not your fault, baby. Daddy's not mad at you. Don't cry. That lady's not gonna hurt you anymore."

He brushed his hand down Matthias' wet cheeks.

"Do you want me to get you something? Will that make you feel better?" Erik asked, trying to appease his saddened _lover_.

Matthias nodded.

"Whatcha want?"

"Chocolate," Matthias answered with a sniffle.

The ends of Erik's lips raised in a drunken grin, revealing his dimples. He pinched Matthias' chubby cheeks. Matthias cringed at the sting of Erik's sharp nails digging into his skin.

"Sweeties for my sweetie," Erik slurred, giggly from the alcohol. "Wait right here and I'll bring back the biggest box of chocolates you'll ever see."

"Okay," Matthias chirped, smiling from being promised the "biggest box of chocolate he'll ever see".

Erik pressed his lips against Matthias'. They had the usual tart taste of beer Matthias was used to. He had adapted himself his father's acts of affection. If Dad kissed him, he knew to kiss back. If Dad hugged him, he hugged back. If his father took off his clothes, Matthias would do the same. These rituals were strange to the tot, but who was he to question the things that grownups do? Erik pulled back his lips and gave Matthias a final loving squeeze.

"I love you," were Erik's last words before leaving to search for a large box of candies. Marytl – who is now sitting on the couch—shuddered as he burst from the bedroom and watched as he sprinted to the front door, onto the driveway, and into his vehicle. Quickly, the headlights flashed on and the car reversed and zoomed off.

"Haha, you get no chocolate. Hahaha, hahaha," Matthias sang from the bedroom doorway, mocking Marytl.

Marytl turned to the boy.

He stuck out his tongue and blew a raspberry. "I get chocolate, you don't 'cause you suck," he snickered. "But I will give you chocolate if you say you're sorry."

Marytl furrowed her brow. "Sorry for what?"

"Sorry for not letting me go to my daddy's room."

Marytl sighed. "You shouldn't be out when your father is like that. He could hurt you. I don't want you to get hurt, so if I tell you to go back to your room, do it."

Matthias frowned at Marytl. "Dad doesn't hurt me. He loves me. But sometimes he gets mad. And when people get mad, they hit things. So shut up. You're stupid and you don't know anything," he grumbled.

 _When people get mad, they hit things._ The words repeated themselves in her mind. "Matthias, has Erik ever hit you?" she asked, concerned. Those bruises and scars.

The boy tugged down the cuffs of his long sleeved pajama shirt. "No he doesn't. He's always nice to me, that's why I get chocolate and you don't. And I'm gonna tell Daddy you keep saying bad things about him."

"Matthias please don't. I'm worried about you; I'm worried you'll get hurt."

"I'm not gonna get hurt! Dad loves me and he'll never hurt me! _Fuck you_! I don't like you! GO AWAY!" he cried furiously. _Dad doesn't hate me! He loves me! He said it himself!_ "He says he loves me all the time."

Marytl's eyes widened, shocked and heartbroken at the child's vulgarity.

"Where did you learn that?" she asked, even though she knew exactly who he picked it up from.

"Nunya business, now go away, I never wanna see you again!"

"Matthias, don't say that. What you're saying isn't nice; it's very bad," Marytl said.

"I don't care. You're badder, _ugly bitch_!"

Marytl walked closer to the boy. "Did you learn that from Erik?"

Matthias stepped back and screamed, "GO AWAY! Stop saying mean things about my daddy or I'll tell him to kill you, ugly annoying lady!" Matthias felt like crying. He didn't like hearing bad things about his dad, and screaming usually gave him whanging headaches.

Marytl's heart ached and her eyes were glazed in the tears she was trying to hold back. The child's words stung, but it was nothing compared to the pain of seeing what Erik turned this innocent child into. He needed to be changed or else he is going to turn out like his father. She wanted to say something, but it got stuck in the lump in her throat. All that came out was a disheartened sigh and a couple of tears. She tried to stop herself from crying. She shouldn't let a child get to her like this. But the waterworks kept flowing. _Is this how Erik ended up the way he is?_ She was downcast, her hair draped down like closing stage curtains, hiding her depressing show of emotion. Her tears splattered on the ground. She clenched her teeth and squeezed her eyes, trying to block any more drops of sadness from pouring down. She felt light tugs on the lower part of her shirt. She opened her eyes and rubbed away the tears.

"I'm sorry; stop crying please" Matthias said empathetically, still holding on to the edge of her shirt. Matthias actually felt guilt when he saw someone upset. He didn't like seeing people crying.

"I was really mad and I said mean things, but you were mean to me first. I'm sorry. When Dad comes back, I'll give you some chocolate."

Marytl sniffed. "Thank you," she said with a pitiful smile.

"Stop being sad, okay?"

"Okay."

During his drunken nights, Erik would smother "Freja" in affection. He would kiss and squeeze _her_ , laugh with _her_ , and gave _her_ anything _she_ asked and then some. He was whipped. He pummeled Marytl. He cursed her, shouted at her, and force her to work. His intoxicated feelings completely contradicted his sober feelings. He hated _Freja_ , but gave her love. He loved Marytl, drowned her in sorrows. Marytl had gotten just as bruised and banged up as Matthias once was. Her body was covered in sores and wounds from her beatings. Everything ached and it hurt just to breath. She never left the house wearing anything revealing; it would have been shameful if anyone caught a glimpse of her biggest mistake. She had a sort of envy towards Matthias, being treated like kind of prince- er, princess- but she wouldn't let bitter feelings blind her. The boy was safe; that was all.

* * *

Mornings brought with them headaches, lost memories, and apologies.

"Sorry. I'm so sorry."

Erik loosely wrapped his arms around the still angry Marytl's waist. She slapped his hands away and headed to their bedroom door. She was tired of all his nonsense. Always getting drunk and beating her and apologizing about it the next day, as if empty words would magically fix things. As she grabbed the knob, Erik blocked the entrance.

"Marytl please, I'm sorry. You know I didn't mean any of that stuff I said last night. It was all a…"

A heavy smack struck Erik across the face, followed by a burning slap. More angry blows followed. He was being barraged by Marytl's hands. He raised his arms to shield his face and chest as the onslaught of closed fists and open palms rained down on him.

"DO YOU LIKE THAT, HUH? DO YOU FUCKING LIKE IT? I always have to deal with your shit all the time, and you really think saying sorry will fucking fix anything? ASSHOLE!" Marytl screamed as she smashed her hands against Erik's tough skin. All her pent up emotions were finally pouring out. She cried from her sadness. She beat him with her fury. Her palms turned red as she struck him. Her pale face turned red as well, her eyes turning pink and watery.

"Mary, I'll never do it again! I swear I will stop, I swear!"

"It's not just about me. Think about Matthias. How will he end up? He's watching everything we do and is learning it. Do you want him to end up like you: beating people and drinking his money? Going around and having sex with everyone?"

Erik was stuck between the door and his angry lover. If he tried to reach for the knob, his face or chest would be exposed. If he didn't, he'd have to endure Marytl's wrath. A fiery rage started to flicker, started to burn brightly in his gut. He wouldn't tolerate such disobedient behavior. Erik was trying to restrain himself. He wanted to apologize, not make things worse between them. If he promised to never hurt Marytl and immediately started beating her, he would be even more of an asshole in her eyes. But he couldn't just stay idle and let her beat him. His frustrations were almost at their peak when he lowered his defenses and reached for Marytl's arms. He gripped them tightly, his nails digging into her flesh. He spun them around. Now Marytl was the one pinned against the door. She turned her head down, trying to protect her face with restrained arms. She was prepared to receive what she had just given, tenfold. Erik was still staring at her like a madman, his breaths warming her exposed cheek. He took in a final deep inhale and sighed. He said in a calm, controlled voice:

"Mary, I'm trying so hard with you. I don't want you to hate me. But YOU BEATING ME LIKE A FUCKING MONKEY DOESN'T HELP!"

Marytl whimpered and cringed. Erik's booming voice pierced her eardrums. His suppressed anger had surfaced, but he quickly tried to bury it.

"Marytl, look at me," he said softly.

She didn't turn.

"Look at me." He put his hand to her chin and directing her face to his. Marytl kept her eyes down, defying his order. He lightly tapped her cheek. "Look!" he ordered. Her hateful eyes met up with his. Erik let out an agitated sigh through his nostrils. _She's acting so stubborn._

"I honestly do love you a lot, like how my dad loved my mom a lot, and how my granddad loved my grandmom. But just like them, I'm terrible at showing it. I know I'm a shitty boyfriend, and I really want to stop. But it's not easy. I went through some really messed up stuff growing up, and they stuck with me. And you are right: Matthias might end up like me: drinking and screaming and all that other shit. And I don't want that. I wanna make things better. I just want us to be happy. I love you and I don't want to be the person who makes you suffer. So when I say 'I'm sorry', I genuinely mean it." His eyes softened. "I'm sorry. For everything. And I promise to you that last night will be the last time I will ever make you cry."

Erik carefully let go of her chin and arm. His blue orbs pleaded silently into hers. Marytl sniffed and finally said:

"Who's Freja?"

Erik gulped. "Where did you hear that name from?"

"You say it a lot when you're drunk," Marytl said, in severe monotony. "Now, who is she?"

Erik couldn't look her in the eye. He faced down and shamefully admitted, "My ex."

A brief tense silence, finally broken by Marytl's scorned words:

"How can you say you love me and still call out your ex's name?"

She didn't give Erik any time to answer before quickly turning the knob, escaping into the room, and slamming the door in Erik's face.

He banged the door with the bottom of his fist, followed by his forehead. He let out a wild roar of anger and proceeded to punch the blockade. Marytl sat at the edge of the bed, still huffing and puffing. She looked to the attacked door, its wood twitching with every blow. He was an animal, screaming and beating the door like some kind of savage. Did he honestly think Marytl would accept his apology, after all that she had gone through, after all the times he apologized, after all the times he had promised to change? Not to mention: he must still have some feelings for this Freja person if he keeps screaming her name when he's drunk. As much as he hated the brute, Marytl couldn't leave him. She didn't know why. Perhaps it was because she's actually gullible enough to buy into his words. Maybe she's too scared to leave. Maybe it's because she loved him so much. Whatever the reason may be, it was still her fault that she hasn't left. She felt stupid. She slapped her palm to her forehead and dragged it down her face, dampening her hand. She took her other hand and clenched her belly. _I hope you don't turn out like that when you get older._

The clatter had stopped. Erik rested his head on the door, defeated and worn out. He turned and looked to the nosy boy who had been watching idly from under the dining table (thinking it was the proper hiding spot). Matthias was caught like a deer in the headlights. He cradled up in a ball and whimpered as his father approached. He heard the footsteps getting louder as they drew nearer. The sounds were pretty much right next to him. He shivered. But the footsteps continued and they began to sound distant. They stopped. Matthias lifted up his head slightly and peeped around. His father was standing in front of the refrigerator, his hand grasping the handle. He just stood there, silently. Erik looked troubled, staring at the silver machine. He sucked in his lips from time to time and shook his head. He finally closed his eyes, letting a deep sigh of acceptance escape his nostrils, and opened the fridge door. He reached in both arms and pulled out two cardboard beer holsters. Matthias looked on in shock as his father proceeded to take out a third, and a forth, a fifth! Followed by four bottles of whiskey, and two gins. _That's a lot_. Matthias gulped. Erik placed them across the kitchen counter. He looked at one of the bottles of rich brown whiskey. He grabbed the bottle by the neck and continued to stare at its black label. He rolled it in his hands and thoroughly examined it. He put it back in the fridge and shut the door. Erik walked over to the display cabinets that stood at the back of the living room, behind the couch and recliner. He looked through the glass casing, at the untouched bottles of champagne and fine wine. He gently opened the glass door and took an armful of alcohol. He brought them to the kitchen, placed them on the counter, and went back to the cabinet to get the remaining bottles. The display case had been emptied out. Matthias stared wide-eyed at the counter, lined with bottles. _Holy Moly, that's too much!_ This was Matthias' moment to escape; he could crawl away before Dad starts drinking, but he was frozen in place, petrified. Why was he still scared? Whenever his father drank nowadays, he was loving towards the boy. Why should he be scared of love? Maybe it wasn't the love he was afraid of. Maybe he was scared of the _strangeness_ of it. Maybe he was scared that his father would revert back to his old ways and treat him the way he did before. Or maybe the fear had sewn itself into Matthias and he could never feel safe around his father ever again.

Erik took a screwpull bottle opener from one of the kitchen drawers. He took one of the champagne bottles and popped off the cork. He brought its rim to his lips and knocked back a long sip. A toast to his to the start of a new, happy life. He ended his drink, and sucked in his lips, licking off the taste of the beverage. He slowly walked to the kitchen sink and stared. He was still unsure of what he was about to do. After an internal argument, he lifted the bottle over the small silver tub and tipped it, turning it upside down. He watched in silent agony as the translucent golden liquids gushed from the bottle's interior. He let it expel until not even a drop was left on the bottle's rim.

The fridge was emptied of alcohol and liquor, save for the bottle of whiskey Erik as unwilling to get rid of. The black plastic garbage bag was bulging, filled with glass bottles, metal tabs, and cardboard. Erik poured out the last bottle of gin into the drain. After the bottle's contents had been drained, he tossed it into the plastic. The bottles clinked inside as they tumbled down and reshaped the bag. He trudged to the couch and fell back into his seat. He looked to the child that was still staring from under the table.

"Matthias come 'ere," he said.

Matthias did as told and crawled out from underneath the table and scuttled to his father. Erik grabbed him by the waist and set the boy on his lap, facing him. He sincerly looked the boy in the eye and said:

"I'm going to be a better dad. I'm sorry for treating you so badly. But I'm gonna make it up to you. You, me, and Marytl are going to live a nice, happy life."

Matthias nodded. This was the most intimate he and his father had ever been without him being called Freja ( or baby, or sweetie, or princess). Erik leaned down and kissed Matthias tenderly on the forehead. Matthias had tilted up his head, closed his eyes, and puckered his lips, expecting the kiss to be on the mouth. He opened his eyes when he felt his father's chapped lips on his forehead.

"If you want, you can play with the McKullens' kid for a while," Erik said.

Matthias' eyes lit up. "Really?"

"Yeah," Erik nodded.

"Yay! Thank you!"

Matthias pecked his father's lips before running off to his bedroom to get his toys. Erik knitted his brow and blinked in confusion. He tried to think, but couldn't come up with a reason as to why his son reacted the way he did. Matthias came back with an armful of toys for him and Jeremy to play with. Erik got up and walked to the door. He unlocked it for the boy since he was too short to reach. He moved to let the tot pass. Matthias ran out the door, turning back to wave to his father.

"Bye," Matthias shouted from halfway across the lawn. "I love you."

Erik waved back. "Bye."

He shut the door when Matthias reached the neighbor's porch. He strolled to the couch. He sat back down and fingered his lips, still bewildered. _Why the hell did he just kiss me?_

* * *

This chapter is late and shitty and sinful. If it made you uncomfortable, that's the point.

P.S. im sorry for all these OC characters. i just can't think of any cannon characters that best fit these roles

P.P.S. or P.S.S Freja looks like Nyo! Danmark and Marytl looks like Nyo! Sverige, except without the glasses.

P.P.P.S i'll probably have to go back and edit the screaming beating chapter, only little things tho. u dont really have to go back to it if u dont want


	8. Awkward

"Are those…macarons?" chirped Tino who stared at the plastic container as if he was going to snatch it off the table.

"Yes."

Tino had been eyeing the container since Berwald entered the station. He was a sucker for sweets. The little cookie sandwiches looked splendid and made him water at the mouth. He simply must have one. Berwald didn't notice that he had taken the macarons with him. He still had the container in his hand when he ran into his car and didn't realize he had it until he reached the station. Berwald did not want the snacks to just sit in his car the entire time, so he brought them inside with him. He took his usual seat in the briefing room and placed the tin on the table in front of him. Before he knew it a thick, uniform wearing torso was standing right in front of him. Berwald's eyes travelled up the somewhat bulky frame to see Tino's chubby-cheeked smile. He didn't even say "hi" before asking about food. He quietly hovered above the half-Swede, waiting for him to finally utter the words:

"Do want one?"

"No. No, thank you. They are yours, soooo, " Tino answered, tongue-in-cheek.

"It's okay. If you want, you could have all of them," Berwald insisted.

"Nope, I don't want 'em."

"Oh, okay"

"Actually, I do want them."

"But you just said that you didn't want them."

"I only said that because I didn't want to sound desperate and greedy. Now, gimme, gimme, gimme." Tino wiggled his fingers like a maniacal witch.

Berwald took the container and handed it to Tino. Tino swiftly snatched the tin out of his hand.

"These are mine now," he hissed, baring his teeth.

"Sorry I'm late. I had to get these papers together," the supervisor said as he rushed through the door and took his place behind the podium.

"Does anyone sit there?" Tino asked pointing to the empty chair next to Berwald.

Berwald shook his head.

"Cool, mind if I sit?"

"I don't mind."

"Thanks."

Tino walked around the table, pulled out the chair, and took his seat.

"So before I say anything else, I'd like to inform you that Officer Stacy, who had been shot a couple days prior, made it through his first of surgery. Doctors were able to treat him quickly, without any incidents. If everything goes smoothly he should be back in about two months," said the supervisor.

Some of the officers didn't know an Officer Stacy, others didn't even know he was in the hospital, but the quick glance the advisor gave to Berwald suggested the information was meant for him. Though he didn't really concern himself with the one-time partner, it was a relief to know the man wasn't dead. Berwald put is head in his hands as his superior continued the briefing.

"Mmmm, these are _sooooo_ good."

Berwald turned to his acquaintance who was munching on macarons. Tino hummed in satisfaction as he chewed. _Mmmmm._

"These are awesome. Where did you get them?"

"Oh, I got them from… from…" _Matthias_. Berwald was hesitant to answer. Tino must never _ever_ find out about his brother. He didn't know why, but he had a feeling that if Tino and Matthias met, something bad would happen. "I-I, I got them from the bakery."

"Which one?"

 _Fuck._ "I don't remember. I just went somewhere random."

"Okay. _Oh_ , thanks. I forgot to say thank you for, y'know, the macarons."

"You're welcome."

The meeting was later adjourned and the officers left the conference room. Berwald had walked off, but Tino stayed behind with his buddies. Tino was still chatting up a storm with his coworkers. He had his usual cloud of friends around him- his large cumulonimbus cloud of friends - smiling, and laughing, and throwing jokes and insults at one another.

"So that Oxenstierna guy, does he even talk?" an officer asked Tino. It was such a sudden change of topic that threw Tino a bit off.

"Yeah, I've never heard his voice before," chimed in another officer.

"I've heard it. It's _sooo_ deep, kinda hot, to be honest," Elizaveta answered, stirring the milk into her coffee.

"Oh, so you think he's hot," Sadik teased, wiggling his eyebrows.

"He actually is."

The remark garnered the collective oohs and giggles of the group.

"Oh, so you're into the strong silent type."

She elbowed Sadik in the arm. "No, it's just I speak my mind. If I think someone's hot, I'll say they're hot. But the thing with Berwald is he always looks mad, like, why so serious?"

"For real, the guy has a serious case of resting bitch face," shot another member of the group.

"That's kinda rude," commented Tino.

"It's kinda true, though. I saw him a couple times when I still worked the daytime shift, didn't see him smile once and he didn't talk to anyone either."

"Maybe, he just likes being alone," Tino shrugged.

"Yeah, but nobody is _that lonely_. The guy doesn't ever talk to anyone," interjected another officer.

"He talks to me."

"Of course he'll talk to you; you're trapped with the guy for the whole night, five days a week."

"David, shut up. Same with the rest of you. You guys are being so rude," shushed a female coworker.

"Exactly, you don't know his life and you don't have any right to talk shit behind his back like that. What if Berwald started talking shit behind your backs?" Tino said, cross by the insensitivity of some of his friends.

"No offense to Berwald," David continued, "but I don't think he actually has anyone to talk shit to."

"David, didn't Anastasia just tell you to shut up?" Tino spat.

"Maybe if you got to know him better, he'd be really cool," Anastasia suggested and sipped her cup of coffee.

"Cool people would actually make friends," added another member of the group.

"True," Sadik agreed, nodding his head and pointing to the commentator.

" _He's been here for a while; why hasn't he spoken to anyone yet?"_

" _Maybe he has friends outside of work."_

" _You think so? If he doesn't talk to anyone here, what makes you think he talks to people outside?"_

" _He's gotta have at least two friends."_

" _Pretty sure it's just one and that's Tino."_

" _Tino doesn't count; he's friends with everyone."_

" _He's gotta have another. If he doesn't, then that's just sad."_

"Maybe he's just shy!" Tino almost yelled. "Jesus! Aren't people allowed to be shy? Why are you guys so judgmental?"

"Yeah, but…"

"SHUT THE FUCK UP, DAVID!" Tino couldn't stand to hear this. They didn't know anything about Berwald – how funny he was, how childish he could be, how cute he looked when he was asleep, and how happy he made Tino when he was around. "You guys are acting like a bunch of A-holes. So rude," he huffed before stomping off.

Berwald waited in front of the building's entrance, leaning on the wall, and tapping the screen of his phone so he would look busy. A few officers walked out, but paid him no mind. Being alone was decent; you don't have to get involved in people's drama, or make plans, and you had all the free-time in the world. But it still felt lonely. There was no one to talk to about your own problems or express your thoughts with or make you happy. It was kind of hard keeping all those feelings crammed inside. It would be nice to have a couple friends or be as popular as Tino was. Berwald knew he was unapproachable; he knew how people felt about him. They were either scared or thought that he was a friendless loser. And staying completely silent wasn't making things better, but he thought opening his mouth would make things worse – that's what happened last time. Berwald checked the time on the screen. What was taking Tino so long? They needed to start patrol soon and he couldn't start it by himself. Besides, being with Tino made him feel less lonely.

Speak of the devil. The electric doors slid open and Tino briskly walked out. Berwald followed behind him to the car. They got into the car and Tino slammed the door with a loud bang. Berwald looked to his partner. Tino was clearly unhappy, with his crossed arms and his face carved with a deep scowl.

"What's wrong?" Berwald asked.

"My friends are huge dicks," Tino quickly answered.

"What did they do?"

Tino looked to Berwald, deciding whether he should tell him or not. It would really hurt to know that people were making fun of you behind your back; Berwald didn't deserve such pain. But he couldn't be left in the dark; it was his business as much as it was Tino's.

"My friends were talking shit about you. It's not right; they don't know you, so they can't say anything about you, like, _what the fuck_? They're really cool people, okay; I don't want you to hate them. In fact, I want all my friends to get along with you, but they were honestly being so rude. They were saying stuff like ' _oh, Berwald has no friends_ ', ' _he never talks.'_ ' Maybe if they started talking to you instead of talking about you they would realize how chill you are."

Berwald expected that much; it's not like it has never happened before. "To be honest, I don't care. Who said I wanted their approval? If I never talk to them, why should I care about what they say? They're irrelevant to my life," Berwald shrugged off.

"Yeah, I know, but I really want you guys to get along. I want to show them how awesome you are and make them realize that they're wrong."

* * *

While on their standard rounds around the beat of neon and clubs, which Tino had dubbed "The Scene", Tino immediately spotted a drunken driver in the other lane. It was painfully obvious, the damn thing was driving backwards. The bizarre behavior provoked many concerned honks and yells from the other drivers. One man going as far as sticking his head out the window and screaming to "TURN THE FUCK AROUND!"

"Oh my God," the Finn sighed, exasperated.

Berwald turned on the deafening sirens and the lights flashed red and blue. The cars ahead of them made way as the patrol cruiser zoomed down and made a U-turn to the opposite lane. They closed in on the vehicle until they were near enough to see right through the windshield. The driver was turning away, looking through the back windshield, one hand still on the steering wheel, the other around the passenger seat. He was oblivious to the loud as hell sirens and bright lights that were pretty much right in "front" of him. Berwald spoke into his portable radio, giving their current location and informing dispatch of the reckless driver. Tino squinted, trying to get a look at the front license plate, and ran the plate number through the computer.

"His name is Casey Moore, age: 38. He's been arrested for drunk driving before, the first time when he was fifteen. He's also been arrested for possession of cocaine as well as multiple assault charges. Seven to be exact. He's currently on parole." Tino let out an unimpressed, annoyed groan. "Amateurs; I've done way worse and…"

"What?"

"He's been arrested for multiple assaults."

"No, after that."

"I didn't say anything."

Berwald gave Tino a suspicious eye. "Okay then."

The man had finally noticed the police cruiser. He eyes widened in surprise then squinted because of the car's headlights burning his retinas. He reversed to the side of the road and stopped. The cruiser stopped behind his.

"I'll take this. If anything gets out of hand, back me up," Tino said, an uncanny seriousness in his voice.

"Maybe I should go." Berwald was a bit nervous for Tino. He wasn't large, or muscular, or intimating in the slightest. They were dealing with someone that has had seven assault charges, not to mention the altercations that may have gone unreported. And being drunk could make him more aggressive. This guy could seriously injure Tino and Berwald couldn't forgive himself if he let him get hurt.

"No, I got this, skyscraper. I'm not as small and helpless as you think." Tino flashed a determined smile to reassure his anxious partner.

Berwald nodded.

Tino took a small black machine from the glove compartment, slowly got out the vehicle, and proceeded with caution. This man had a history with hostility; things could turn violent, or in the worst case: lethal. Berwald watched, on edge, from the car as Tino knocked on the driver's window. The window rolled down with a low buzz and Tino was almost immediately knocked back by the strong odor of alcohol and drugs he couldn't identify.

"Good evening, sir," Tino said, remaining cool and levelheaded.

"Good evenin', officer." His breath smelt like liquor.

"Do you know why I stopped you?"

The man lazily shook his head. "Nope." His eyes were tinted pink, probably from smoking.

"Well, you were driving backwards, for starters. Can I please see some kind of identification?"

"Yes, sir, just hold on a sec." The man fished through his pockets, pulled out his driver's license from his wallet, and handed it to Tino. The information appeared to match that from the computer. He handed Casey back the license. "Sir, have you had anything to drink tonight?"

"Naw, sir, I'm good," the driver drawled.

"No, not even a couple beers?"

"Well, I had a couple, y-ya know, just a few. Like…um… maybe three beers."

Tino nodded. "Oh, okay." _Three beers, my ass._ "Can you please put your mouth on this and blow?" He raised the little black contraption and gave it a little shake to bring Casey's attention to it.

"No, nonononon – NO. I'm not putting anything in my mouth; I can assure you I ha-haven't drank," Casey burped, "too much."

"Well, if you're so sure, why don't you blow this thing and prove it?"

"I don't do any of that _blowing business_ ; I'm not a prostitute."

"I'm not saying you are a…prostitute; I'm just asking you to take a quick breathalyzer test."

"Why would I need to? I'm _noooooooot_ _drunk-uh_."

"If you're not drunk then why are you scared to take the test?"

"I'm no-no-no- not … I'm not scared."

"Then take the test."

"Fine, okay, I'll show ya."

"Mhhmm, now just put your mouth here and blow." Tino brought the machine to the man's lips. He filled his cheeks up with air and blew on the nozzle until Tino told him to stop. Tino took the breathalyzer from his mouth and read the number on the small blue screen. He frowned, disgruntled.

"Casey, you know that the blood alcohol content limit is point zero eight (0.08)?

The man shook his head. "No, no, I didn't."

"Well, you're at point one thirty-two (0.132). Can you step out the vehicle please?"

"Okaaaaay," Casey groaned. He did as asked and stepped out the car. His stature made Berwald even more anxious. He was much, much larger than Tino and stood at least a half a foot (6 in. / 15.24 cm) over him. His body appeared thickset with fats and muscles. Berwald clenched the door handle, ready to burst out the car any second.

Tino asked the man to turn around and place his hands on the roof of the car. He complied and Tino began to pat him down.

"Now hol' up, what the fuck are you doing?" Casey slurred. "This shit so fucking weird."

"This isn't weird. I just have to check for any weapons."

"Naw, this shit's weird! I don't have anythin' on me; you jus' feeling me up, bro!"

"I'm just doin' my job. And I'm not trying to _feel you up_."

"Yeah, you are, putting ya hands all over me. We're not close like that."

"I'm sorry."

Berwald pondered as how Tino could appear so calm; he was practically talking to this dangerous criminal like any other one of his friends. In these kinds of scenarios, Berwald would have been much more tense and more commanding.

Tino pulled the handcuffs from their holster and fastened them around Casey's wrists.

"What is this _kinkiness_? I ain't with this 'Fifty Shades o' Grey'-type shit! I-I-I-I-I-I-I'm not consenting to this; this is sex–sexual harassment…"

"You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in the court..."

"BRO, SERIOUSLY GET RID OF THIS KINKY SHIT! It's chafing my wrists!" Casey began to forcefully buck and jerk, trying to free himself. Berwald was quick to get out of the car, but Tino lifted a hand, silently telling Berwald to stay where he was. Tino wrapped an arm around his neck and yanked him down, making the larger man gag. Another arm was wrapped tightly around his chest, pinning his back to Tino's front.

"Stop this! You are hurting me! I need help! HELP! HEELLPPP-UH!"

" …You have the right to an attorney; if you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you."Tino spoke loudly, almost shouting over Casey's mad cries.

"POLICE! POLICE! I AM BEING ASSAULTED!"

"Yeah, okay bud. There's a police car right there; you can tell them about your issue." He led the drunk to the police car. He shut the door after sitting the man in the vehicle and returned to the Casey's car to search it. In the cup holder, plain as day, was a half-empty bottle of vodka. In the car ashtray, was a still-smoking rolled up blunt, and in the glove box, a zip-locked bag of cannabis and a pistol. There didn't seem to be anything in the backseat or under the chairs. The trunk was clear, too. Tino took the confiscated items, put them in sanitized, plastic bags, and brought them back with him to the cruiser.

"See that man; he's the sick prick who molested me! ARREST 'IM, OFFICER!"

Berwald put the car in drive after Tino got seated and they headed for the county jail. Casey continued to scream his lungs out in the back seat, talking about how he had just been _sexually harassed_ and how the two were _crooked cops_. Berwald and Tino just ignored his wild accusations. Tino shook one of the plastic bags; he watched as the pistol inside bounced a little with the quakes. Berwald took a quick glance.

"You got that off him?" Berwald asked with a smidge of concern.

"It was in his car," Tino answered blankly. "Lucky it wasn't on him or else things could've turned south hella fast."

"Yeah, drunk and armed aren't the best combination."

"Yeah."

It was a long trip to the county jail, but it seemed much longer due to the lack of conversation and Casey's unending screeches. Almost reaching their destination, he fell asleep and finally shut his mouth.

They stopped at the jail. They got out the car and Berwald shook their sleeping passenger's shoulder to wake him up. Casey's immediate reaction was a terrified shriek.

"Jesus Christ, you scared the hell outta me. Got ,like, some kinda serial killer face, damn."

Berwald merely let out a cross sigh and took Casey outside the car. Berwald followed from behind, gripping the man's arm, while Tino walked a little ahead of them. They went up a short flight of concrete steps, through the glass entrance, into a large lobby. They approached a brown desk, where the booking officer sat.

"Hi, Eduard," Tino sang, resting his arms on the high desk top.

"Hi Tino; hey…" Eduard just looked over at Berwald with an awkward smile, a bit unnerved by his grim expression.

"This is Berwald; he's my new partner. Don't worry he's not as mean as he looks," Tino noted.

"Uh-huh, w-well, nice to meet you... _Berwald_ ," Eduard choked out.

"Hi."

 _He sounds as scary as he looks._

Eduard got up from behind the desk and walked to the arrestee. He stared up at Berwald with an apprehensive look in his eye; he was honestly more terrified of Berwald than the actual felon. He took Casey from Berwald's grasp and proceeded to search him once more. Casey was too tired to complain this time, so he just let the officer conduct the pat down. Eduard unlocked the handcuffs and returned them to Tino.

"I'll take this guy to the back for further search; wait here 'til I get back with the papers, okay?" Eduard asked, cuffing Casey with his own set of handcuffs.

"Yeah, sure," Tino answered.

Eduard walked to a bluish gray door at the rear of the lobby. He turned back to give a few uneasy glances at Berwald as he went. Tino hummed and tapped his fingers on the desk top. Berwald just stood and stared and thought. He admired (and was a bit jealous) of Tino's ability to talk to anybody, how he knew pretty much everyone. If only Berwald had that skill, maybe he wouldn't be the social outcast that people just stared at and talked about.

"You're good at talkin' to people," Berwald slipped out.

"Hmm?" Tino turned around.

"You're good at talking to people."

"Well, when you do something a lot, you get pretty good at it after a while," Tino giggled.

"Yeah, I guess. Practice makes perfect." Maybe this could be practice. "So…um… how do you know… that guy, Eduard?"

"Ed's been my best friend since middle school; I moved in across the street from him in the sixth grade."

 _Best friend_. The word stung, being used to describe someone else. Berwald thought that he was getting close to Tino, but they had only known each other for a few days. Berwald started to think that he and Tino may not be as close as he thought.

The room fell silent.

 _Conversation, conversation, conversation. What else can I talk about? It was much easier yesterday._ _Yesterday_."Yesterday was fun."

"Yeah, it was," Tino said. "You were pretty fast. How did you not lose breath? I was practically having an asthma attack while I ran."

"I was on my middle school track team and that helped build endurance. I was also on my high school football team."

"Really? I also played football a lot when I was younger. What position did you play on the team?"

"Midfielder."

"I usually played striker, but I played goalkeeper on occasion."

"I'm back and I have paperwork for you to fill out," Eduard sang as he entered the lobby, waving the papers. "So whichever one of you made the arrest, just fill up the report and you'll be on your way."

"I made the arrest. Hand 'em over," Tino said raising his hand.

Eduard gave the empty report to Tino once he reached the desk. He took a pen from behind the desk. "Here's a pen."

As Tino filled the papers, Eduard stood close next to him, leaning over the desk, head in his hands, they're backs turned to Berwald. Berwald was being ignored … _again_. He couldn't hear distinct words, but he could tell they were talking. He could hear little mumbles and whispers and giggles. Tino knocked back and howled with laughter. What could have been so funny? Why does it matter; it wasn't his business. Berwald tried to tune into their conversation, but immediately stopped himself. He had no right to eavesdrop; it wasn't any of his… _"So, are you gonna be there Saturday?"_

" _Yeah."_

" _See you later._ " With that, Eduard walked off with Tino's report, back through the bluish gray door.

"Now, that's done," Tino said, clapping his hands and rubbing them together. They left the station, got back into the patrol car, and hit the road.

* * *

"So, what other sports do you play?" Tino asked, recalling on their earlier conversation.

"Not much, really."

"No, not hockey or rugby?"

Berwald shook his head slowly.

"What about basketball?"

"Nope."

"Huh."

"What sports do you play?" Berwald asked back.

"I haven't really done much since high school, but I go hunting and fishing a bunch."

Berwald stretched a corner of his lip a bit skeptically, questioning his mostly positive views towards the Finn. He didn't really consider _killing-animals-to-pass-the-time_ a sport. He thought it unethical and cruel and didn't expect that someone who seemed so likable to take part in such an inhumane activity. He poked his tongue on the inside of his cheek then pushed it to the other side, wanting to give his own thoughts on the matter, but not wanting to bore or annoy Tino with a tedious lecture on animal rights or make him think think he was uncool or any other negative outcome that could've been avoided if he kept his mouth shut. He simply nodded his head quietly.

"Check out the park." Tino's attention was quickly stolen by the greenery and playgrounds through the driver's side window. "Let's stop there."

"But this isn't our sector."

"C'mon. Please? The Scene isn't that far from here. We could just stop here for a couple minutes and rush right back."

"There should be someone watching over the sector; that's our priority."

"Sadik and Liz are there."

"'The Scene' has its own park; we could stop there."

Tino eyes lit up. "Oooh, let's go there."

Berwald looked through the window at the empty park, filled with familiar trees, benches, and play sets. _I remember this place._

* * *

 _The Scene isn't that far from here._ It took twenty minutes to drive from their location to the sector. It may not seem like much, but to Berwald that was too long for the sector to remain understaffed.

The sector didn't only have wild clubs and raves, but this was the area of the zone most frequented by police for obvious reasons. The Scene also had many hotels and villas. High-end restaurants and stores were all over the place. Most of its residents drove luxury cars. This was a place for people who wanted a lively, over-the -top lifestyle.

When they arrived, Berwald regretted his decision to bring Tino to this park. It was filled with people, way too much people considering how late at night it was. Everything was a loud pandemonium. There were booths and stalls everywhere, with people yelling and screaming. Everybody was talking with one another; a million conversations going on at once. People everywhere on their phones, cameras flashing, taking pictures to post on social media. And whanging electrical noise (which some people would consider "music") engulfed the entire park. God, no wonder everyone was screaming; you couldn't even hear yourself think in all this racket, much less hear someone else talk.

"Why are there so many people?" Berwald mumbled, nervously gripping the steering wheel.

"I think there's an outdoor concert." Tino pointed off in the direction of the park stage. They couldn't actually see the stage since it was at the bottom of a steep slope farther in the park, but multicolored towers of light shooting up into the sky made its location known.

"Do you still want to come here?" asked Berwald, cringing with discomfort.

"We should probably check out the concert. Alcohol plus rowdy teens usually ends up in mosh pit style fights. There's a lot of drug deals that go on in concerts, too. "

"Yeah, but don't concerts have their own security for that kind of thing?"

"Yes, but what's the harm in having two extra pair of eyes?"

"You just want to see that concert don't you?"

"No, I just want to make sure the area is safe is all," Tino smirked childishly.

"I'm sure Sadik and Elizaveta have already checked this place."

"Well, I hope someone over there is doing some illegal stuff, so we can show up and arrest 'em."

* * *

The two have been crammed in the car for at least two hours. Sleepiness and boredom were already kicking in.

"I'm so tired," Tino whined. "I need coffee. I need food. I need a break."

Berwald yawned. "Me, too. There's a café by the park. After we eat, we could go there and see if the concert is still on."

"I'm pretty sure the concert is dead now, but let's do that,anyway," Tino yawned.

 _Café. Oh shit. I totally forgot!_ He had completely forgotten about Matthias' problem. He felt a bit shameful. Matthias was still a citizen that had reported a crime and as an officer, Berwald should help those in need. _But it_ _was_ Matthias. He tended to blow things out of proportion and practically threw Berwald's badge at anyone he didn't like. Besides, Berwald knew this sector pretty well and never spotted a _Cool Blue Café_. He couldn't just leave his assigned area for a little pick pocket. _There, another perfect excuse._

A quick drive to the café and Berwald parked the car in front of the establishment. Getting out the car, Tino looked across the street to the now still park. Some of the merchants were packing up there things and taking down there tents. The horde of hot, sweaty teens partying and raving was now a few people just walking around uselessly or taking their fold up chairs and coolers to their cars. There were no more beams of light or booming "music." The park was quiet.

"Tino, you coming?" Berwald called from the entrance, holding open the glass door.

"Yeah."

Tino turned back and walked into the building; Berwald followed behind. The interior design was quite elegant. A large room with scarlet walls, decorated with golden-framed paintings. A heart pine floor, polished to a reflective shine. Red velvet seats were placed around dark wood tables.

"Pretty," Tino commented, before pulling out his phone and taking a picture to capture the décor.

"Hello, welcome to The Original French Café. What would the country's finest like this evening?" greeted the clerk.

Tino stared down at the display fridge. It held cordon bleu delicacies that he couldn't resist. He was struggling to choose what to eat. After some deep thought and continuous chin rubbing, he finally got an answer: a cappuccino, with a grilled BLT, and a lava cake. Berwald was quick to make his order – a submarine sandwich and a cappuccino—before they paid and got to their seats by the large front windows. Tino sank into the soft cushions; Berwald , being as heavy as he was, was practically swallowed up by the chair. Tino broke into a fit of laughter as Berwald tried to get readjusted in his seat.

"Is this thing a black hole?" Berwald jested, giggling along with Tino.

"It's trying to swallow your ass," Tino chuckled.

Berwald scooted up to the edge of his chair to keep from falling in and Tino's laughter subsided.

"This place is so nice," he said.

"Yeah," Berwald answered and looked around to admire the café's interior decoration. _Rich people neighborhoods have the best stuff_. Tino took out his phone again to take more photos of the elaborate designs and paintings. He turned in his seat, trying to snap pictures of the entire room. He looked around for more things to take pictures of; the live images on his mobile moving in a slow turn, from the empty seats in the background, to Berwald – who was tapping his fingers on the table, waiting for food to arrive — to the window – and all the cars and lights that could be seen through it. _Wait._ Tino returned his focus back to Berwald.

"Smile for the camera," Tino sang.

Berwald looked up from the dark table and quickly raised two fingers in front of the camera lens.

"Berwald, I'm trying to take a picture." Tino lifted up a finger.

"Naw." Berwald shook his head.

"Just one, please?" Tino moved Berwald's arm out the way, but he raised an open hand to block his face. Tino stood up from his seat and walked next to Berwald, leaned over his chair, and switched the phone to front camera. Berwald moved his palm closer to his face.

"No," Tino said, lightly slapping his hand away. Tino tapped the screen to take the photo, but on the screen was his bright smile and a large blur. Berwald had slid back in his seat and sunk into the "black hole". Tino looked down and scrunched up his face. A heavy exhale escaped his flared nostrils at the man who was staring blankly, yet triumphantly at him. Tino returned back to his seat. A waitress arrived with their food on a tray and laid down their platters.

"This is so cute!" Tino commented, looking down at his little cappuccino. In the cup, was a foam kitten, peeping out of the coffee with an adorable hand drawn chocolate sauce face. He took a picture of it alongside the rest of his meal. Berwald looked down at his own drink. A simple design: a foam heart.

After eating their late dinners slash early breakfasts, Berwald and Tino got up from their seats and walked to the exit.

"Goodbye, come again!" called the clerk.

The two exited the café, stopped on the sidewalk, and looked across to the park.

"Do you still want to go?" Berwald asked, looking down to his partner.

"Yes, I honestly hate being stuck in that car all the time. I need space to be young, wild, and free," Tino answered emphatically.

"Alright, let's go."

The road was empty of cars and they walked across the street to the green grounds. Fairy lights and colored paper lanterns hung from tree branches like Spanish moss, illuminating a gray concrete lane. Without communicating, they simultaneously agreed to walk across the grass onto the wide footpath. Under the trees, Tino looked up at the lights above him, slowly rotating, to take in the entirety of the view. He took his phone from his pocket and took a couple shots of the captivating decorations.

"Do you take pictures of everything?" Berwald asked.

"Only the things I like," Tino answered simply.

Tino took two more pictures before putting his phone away. They strolled down the starry alley. Only two people walked passed them as they were gaiting and Berwald only saw three stalls. The park, or at least this part of it, was almost vacant; he wasn't sure if other areas of the park were just as bare.

"It's so quiet now, much better than the craziness going on earlier," Berwald commented on the emptiness.

"Yeah," Tino said. His slow pace sped up to a brisk skip.

"I don't get how people like going to huge concerts. I get that you want to see your favorite artist up close, but all the sweaty people grinding up on you, everyone screaming even when the music is already loud as hell."

"I know, right? This one concert I went to with Eduard, it was in the summer, and everyone was sweaty as hell. He pulled his shirt over his nose and sprayed air freshener everywhere."

"Really?" Berwald chuckled.

"Yeah, this one girl told him 'thank you'."

"They should do that for a Febreze commercial, just blindfold someone, throw them into a van, and take them to a concert. They'd probably have to dump a fucking ocean of air freshener onto the crowd for it to work, though."

Tino snorted and put his hand over his mouth to muffle the laughter. "I'm pretty sure that much Febreze would drown them, like, everyone just dies, but at least they smell like 'Hawaiian Aloha'." His skip slowed down to Berwald's stride and they were now walking side by side, their footsteps falling in sync.

Berwald looked horrified at his partner. "What the hell? Why you talking about dead people?"

"I don't know," Tino giggled.

Berwald continued to stare at the strange little man. Tino wiggled his eyebrows up at him. Berwald's eyebrows wiggled back. Tino continued to raise and drop his brow and Berwald did the same. The two men childishly waggled their eyebrows, trying to see who could do it the fastest, until Tino broke into another laughter. His laugh was so screechy, with his voice being as high as it was, and full of snorts, but it was possibly the most adorable "ugly laugh" Berwald had ever heard.

"What the hell is wrong with your laugh?" Berwald teased.

"You've heard it so many times already, did you just notice it now?"

 _Yes, actually._ Berwald hadn't really cared about his strange laugh or thought it was cute until now. "Yeah, but it's just so weird."

"I'm all about weird," Tino said before sticking out his tongue out and blowing a raspberry. "Do you wanna go to the playground?"

"Yeah, sure," Berwald shrugged.

They followed the trail further into the park and walked off into the grass. They cut through the grass and made it back onto concrete. Berwald wasn't paying attention to where he was walking and two steps into the pavement, he reeled back, as a tower of water shot from the ground. More geysers began to burst and water rained down from tall multicolored showers, all in a preprogrammed pattern. The water play area. Berwald must've set off a sensor in the ground when he stepped on the asphalt. He and Tino watched the aqua show of interchanging fountains and sprinkling showers.

"I really want to jump into that," Tino said. "I loved playing in these things as a kid."

"These things made summers way better. If you couldn't go to the waterpark, you could just run around in here."

"Yeah. I dare you to run through it."

Berwald turned to his partner. "No, I'll soak my uniform."

"Wuss," Tino mumbled.

"Then you jump in it."

Tino hesitantly walked forward, just mere inches from one of the shower heads. He took a step into the rain and immediately got back out. Though he was only in the shower for a split second, most of his uniform shirt was dripping wet, with little splatters on his pants. Tino smirked triumphantly.

"Your turn," he ordered.

"I never agreed to doing that," Berwald answered.

"If I get wet, you have to get wet, too."

"Yeah, no," Berwald said, shaking his head.

" _Berwald_ ," Tino whined, " _do it_."

"No."

"Yes."

Berwald gave in and walked to a tall waterspout near the center of the play area. He let his arm pass through the fountain and looked back.

"You have to do more than that."

Berwald then put in another arm into the jet of water.

"More, Berwald. Jump into it, man."

"Nope, I've done more than enough." Berwald turned back and began to exit the field of fountains.

"No, go back. You need to get dre—HAHAHAHAHA!"

As Berwald was pacing out of the play area, a jet shot up and drenched him from bottom to top.

"I hope you're satisfied, little man! I'm fucking wet!"

"I'm satisfied!" Tino hollered.

Berwald stood next to the still-laughing Tino. He bent over his knees and shook vigorously, drizzling Tino in water, and wiped his glasses. They walked around the water zone to a mat of plastic grass. Tino took of his boots and socks and raced to the merry-go-round. He stood on the circular platform with one foot on the ground and ran in a circle, but the force wasn't enough for a long, fast spin.

"Spin me, Berwald," Tino commanded.

Berwald rolled his eyes, sighed, and walked over to the play thing.

"Aren't you tired?" Berwald asked.

"Nope."

Berwald placed his hands on two bars, pulled them back, and pushed with all he could. It span like a colorful twister, spinning faster as Berwald pushed every other bar as they passed. Tino clenched on to the poles with dear life, whooping and screeching with laughter. _Why not give it a try?_ Berwald sprang onto the merry-go round. It rotation slackened, but he accomplished in keeping it spinning by bending and leaning, using his weight and inertia. The merry-go-round slowed down, almost stopping, but Berwald kept it moving by swaying his hips back and forth. Once the act of the turn ended, Tino got up from the piece of equipment and stumbled dizzily across the plastic grass. He plopped down and sat at the bottom of a yellow slide until the world stopped spinning. Berwald tried to walk in a straight line, but stumbled a bit as he approached Tino.

"You look drunk," Tino joked.

"Spinning on those things was how I got 'drunk' as a kid." He blinked rapidly, took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes.

"Can I see your glasses?" Tino asked.

Berwald lent him his specs.

"How do I look?" Tino asked, softening his eyes and putting on a cute smile, trying to get some kind of compliment on his bespectacled appearance.

"Blurry ," Berwald answered blankly.

"No, seriously. Do I look cute or hot or normal or what?"

"I can't see anything. 'm blind as hell without my glasses."

Tino raised three fingers. "How many fingers am I holding up?"

Berwald narrowed his eyes at his partner. "I literally just said I can't see."

"Fine." Tino took off the glasses and brought them to Berwald's hand. Berwald placed them neatly on the bridge of his nose and sat down on the soft grass next to the slide.

"Wait, Berwald, take off your glasses again."

Berwald exhaled at the tedious task and removed his glasses again.

"You look really nice without your glasses, but I like you better with the glasses on. Now stop looking all angry."

"I'm not angry."

"I'm not saying that you're angry; you just look angry. If you keep frowning like that you'll get wrinkles faster." Tino smirked and wiggled his brow. "Besides, Liz thinks you're hot."

"That's not true." Tino was obviously joking; no one would ever say something like that about Berwald – well except for Matthias, but he didn't count.

"No, she actually said you're really hot and you have a hot voice."

 _He must be kidding._ Berwald shook his head. "No, she didn't."

"She said, okay. She thinks you look fine. As. Hell. But the problem is she thinks you look mad all the time."

" _And she also thinks that I have no friends_." As cool as Berwald acted, it actually really hurt to be the butt of everyone's joke. The thought of being ridiculed by his peers filled him with both sadness and spite, but all he had to show for it was a deep sigh through his nostrils and an eternally stern expression.

"Elizaveta wasn't one of the people who was making fun of you. She doesn't really talk shit unless she hates someone. All she said was that you look sexy, your voice is sexy, and you always look mad."

"Really?"

"Yeah, that's all she said. I swear to God."

"Okay," Berwald said doubtfully.

"Now, smile."

Berwald awkwardly relaxed his expression and curled one corner of his lips up in a half smile, revealing a shallow dimple.

"You look like such a dork," Tino giggled. "Do a real smile like when we were running around yesterday in the parking lot."

"When I was smiling then, it was natural. But now, you're forcing me to smile," Berwald said in his monotonous tone, despite wearing a charming expression.

"Try smiling differently, like…" Tino put on a bright smile and poked his cheeks.

Berwald widened his smirk to a bright toothy grin and pressed his fingers into his dints, mocking Tino's excessively cheery expression. Tino hooed and clapped his hands. He brought his thumb and index finger together into a hoop, A-okay.

"Per-perfect," Tino chortled, "Liz is gonna be all over that, boy!"

Berwald lowered his hands, weakened the strenuous façade, and chuckled.

"Wait, that is much better."

Berwald's lips were still curled, but not as exaggerated as before. A natural modest smile.

"Keep smilin' like that and you'll get all the ladies. I bet you get tons of girls with that smile. Lady killer; _RRRrrrr_ ," Tino purred.

Berwald shook off the remark. That was the farthest thing from the truth. Berwald has never had a girlfriend, never planned on getting one either. Tino, has he had a girlfriend? Is he dating anyone?

"Do you have a girlfriend?" Berwald blurted out.

Tino cleared his throat, chuckled, and leered. "Lots. I'm like a freakin' pimp. Okay, pizza delivery calls me, if you know what I mean."

 _Oh_. "Yeah, I know." Kind of what he expected to hear from someone so well liked.

"Actually, I lied," Tino admitted, red-faced and embarrassed. "I haven't had a girlfriend since the ninth grade. Girls keep friend-zoning me. But I prefer being single anyway. But seriously though, I don't understand why girls wouldn't want all this." Tino shimmied and moved his arms up and down his body, putting _all this_ on display. "The girls that I like keep saying that I'm a _great_ friend, their _best_ friend, but why can't I be their _boy_ friend. This one girl I had a crush on back in police academy, we were really close, but she already had a boyfriend. She would always complain to me, and only me, about how he was a fuck boy who flirted with everyone. And one day, do you know what she said to me?"

Berwald shook his head and shrugged.

"She said 'Tino, you're such a nice guy, I wish I could date someone like you.'" Tino threw up his arms and dropped his jaw in disbelief and annoyance. "Like, hello bitch, I am someone like me! She's actually not a bitch, by the way. But when I told her I liked her and asked her out, she said 'That's so nice, but I don't want to make things awkward between us.' Can you believe that? Also, I had a huge crush on Liz way back when. I asked her out and we did go on a couple dates, but we never actually made things official. And on her birthday, I brought her a sweatshirt that she said she really like. She hugged me and told me I was such a _great friend_."

Berwald snorted. Tino's dating misfortunes were quite amusing.

"Don't laugh at me. Not everyone in this world can be a seven-foot tall sex god, Berwald," Tino grumped.

Berwald broke into a short deep laughter. "I'm not a sex god."

"Yeah, you are. You're hot, not to sound weird or anything."

"I'm really not," Berwald denied. _He's only saying that because he's nice._

"No, you really are good looking."

"You're only saying that to be nice."

"I'm telling the truth."

Berwald didn't believe what Tino was saying. He couldn't see what Tino sees.

"You should have more confidence in yourself."

Well, low self-esteem did come with being a "friendless loser". For someone who "didn't care about what people thought", Berwald's self-image wasn't the best. It was practically shaped by the opinions of others. _Why are you always by yourself? You have friends? Name one. It's kinda weird how you don't talk to anyone. You're never gonna get a girlfriend. Dude, you look really fucking scary, you know that?_ Compliments were just the empty words of people who wanted to sound polite. Whenever someone said that he was _hot_ , it was usually just a joke. Most of the conversations he had were forced and awkward. He has had a handful of friends, though he wasn't sure if they were actually his friends or just hung out with him out of pity. Did Tino even genuinely mean what he was saying or was he just trying to sound nice?

"Are we friends?" Berwald again asked without realizing.

"Um, yeah. Isn't it obvious?"

Berwald didn't answer. Tino reclined back on the slide and folded his arms behind his head as a pillow. He yawned. He looked at the night sky above him. It wasn't anything special: a few stars sprinkled here and there, the moon glowing behind some clouds, and a red blinker running across the lame black. _Oooh look, a plane._ The night sky was nothing.

"It's so weird how boring the sky looks," Tino commented.

Berwald looked up. "The sky always looks like that."

"Not really." Tino sat up. "When I went on camping trips with my dad, deep into the woods, we'd see so many stars and could even see the Milky Way galaxy. But in the city, you don't really see much."

"Yeah, because of all the light pollution. All these neon signs and bright lights you like so much block out most of the stars, so you don't see stuff like that. I've never even seen the Milky Way in real life."

"That's sad. Why can't we have the lights with the stars?"

"It doesn't work that way. If you want the stars, you can't have the lights. If you want the lights, you can't have the stars."

"That sucks." Tino got up from the slide. "Wanna go back now?"

"Yeah," Berwald answered nodding his head.

Tino held out his hand. Berwald reached out and clasped onto it. Tino pulled him up to his feet. They strolled back to the car. They did one more round before returning to the station. This night seemed much quicker than the previous two. The sun was up and their shift was almost over. Of course, Tino was passing the time with his _other_ friends in the break room. Berwald was at his desk, looking preoccupied with paperwork, ear buds in his ears. He was unaware of his name being passed around by Tino's clique. There was a light tap on his shoulder. He took out an earphone and gazed up at Tino, alongside two other officers: Officer Elizaveta Héderváry and Officer David Gold.

"So we were planning to go to the mall next week Saturday. You wanna join?" Liz asked nonchalantly.

Berwald's eyes shot from Tino to Elizaveta to Officer Gold. Gold had a patronizing air about him. He looked as if he was expecting something of Berwald; he had low expectations. Berwald looked back to Elizaveta and nodded.

 _Of course he wouldn't open his mouth, he doesn't ta…_

"Yeah, sure, I can come."

David raised an eyebrow in pleasant surprise.

"Great, but we still haven't decided what time we'll go or if it'll still be the mall or somewhere else, so I'll have to update you if anything happens," Tino added. "What's your number?"

Berwald took his phone from his pocket, unlocked it, and tapped the screen a little until his phone number appeared on the screen for Tino to dial into his own mobile.

"You're usually by yourself; do you want to talk with us?" David invited.

Berwald looked over to Gold. He was testing Berwald.

"Sure."

Berwald rolled back his office chair and stood in front of David. David stared up at him in covert passive aggression. Berwald tailed them to the break room. He had never gone to this area of the station. There was a white oblong table in the center, surrounded by plastic chairs where their coworkers sat. Three vending machines stood at the back wall; a coffee station ran along the left wall with a microwave further down the counter. At the end of the counter was a silver refrigerator. To the right was a flat screen attached to the wall. Grete, David, and Tino were already sitting down. He looked at the group of people in the center of the room. _So these are the people who were talking mess._

"Hi," waved one of the workers, Officer Markus Bell. "Come, sit down."

Berwald waved a dismissive hand. He walked to the table.

"You sure you don't want it sit?" Tino asked getting up from his chair.

Berwald shook his head. "No, I'm fine."

 _Of course, he only spoke to Tino._

"Wow, his voice is deep," someone whispered.

Tino sat back down. Everyone's attention was now on Berwald, the elusive stranger.

"So where are you from?" asked another officer, Anastasia Arlovskaya.

"I grew up in the suburbs outside of town. Brookston," Berwald answered dully.

"I used to live there before I moved. Maybe we went to the same elementary school. Bright Start Elementary?"

Berwald shook his head.

"Do you have any hobbies?" questioned an unfamiliar face. He wasn't wearing an officer's uniform. He was probably one of the emergency dispatchers. "I'm Neil, by the way."

"I'm Berwald," he greeted. "I play bass sometimes." It had been years since he had touched the instrument.

"That's cool, I wanna hear you play sometime."

"He likes comics. He talked about them in the car," Tino cut in. "David, you're a huge comic book nerd, right? Now you have someone who actually cares enough to listen to your comic rants."

"My rants are interesting; you guys always listen to them," David shot.

"Because you make us listen," jested Officer Dennis Stevens.

David sneered at his coworker before looking to Berwald. "So what comics do you read?"

Berwald opened his mouth to speak.

"I'm warning you, don't answer. When David starts talking about superheroes, he never shuts up," Carver said.

"I actually don't read them that much; I just got into comics because a friend liked them."

"Oh, well, ya watch superhero movies?"

"I swear to God, David, if you start making the 'that's not how it happened in the comics' speech, I'll arrest myself for homicide," threatened Sadik, Officer Adnan.

Berwald leaned over Tino's seat, his hands on the back of the chair. Their conversation continued on, with topics of discussion changing every five minutes. Berwald pitched in his own opinions from time to time – trying to seem sociable and killing off the rumor that he was mute. He didn't joke as much as he did when he was just with Tino, but a few of his smart comments accumulated giggles from the group. Berwald stretched back and yawned.

"I'm getting kinda tired."

"Yeah, staying up all night does that," Elizaveta agreed.

"I'm just gonna head home. See you guys whenever."

"Wait," said Bell.

Berwald turned back from the door.

"Tino told you about the mall on Saturday?"

"Yes, I'll be there."

"Okay, cool."

Berwald exited the room, the building, and walked back to the car. He turned on the vehicle and headed home. He had a sense of fulfillment for being able to talk to the people he never imagined he would. _They didn't seem all that bad, but they could've been faking it._

* * *

"See, he's a pretty chill guy."

"Yeah, he's cool," David had to admit.

"And he has friends," Tino continued. "He's not a loser. Moral of the story: don't judge someone before getting to know them first."

"You guys were acting like dicks," Elizaveta remarked, chewing on a chocolate bar she got from one of the vending machines.

* * *

1:05 p.m. Berwald only managed to get five hours of sleep; his biological clock woke him up. He was losing sleep. Humans aren't nocturnal; he couldn't stay up all night and get proper sleep in the day. He was still in his uniform – minus the shoes, socks, brass, and gear. His glasses set on the night stand beside his bed. He groggily sat up at the edge of the mattress trying to get his thoughts in order. He pressed his palms into his eyes and stood up. He unbuttoned his uniform shirt and slipped it off. He unzipped his pants and they fell to his ankles. He tossed the articles of clothing onto the bed. He walked into the bathroom and flicked on the lights. He stared at the mirror. He curled up his lips, showing his teeth. Then he brought his lips together to conceal his pearly whites. He moved his mouth from side to side, widened and shortened his smile, raised his eyebrows. He pouted, widened his eyes, raised an eyebrow, practicing different facial expressions, trying to seem more _dynamic_. He must've looked stupid, but he wouldn't know – he was practically blind without his glasses. When he stuck out his tongue, he finally acknowledged how strange he was acting. He took off his underwear and hung it up on hook attached to the door. He walked into the bathtub and turned on the shower. He faced up and let the warm water pour on his face. He pushed his fingers through his hair. If none of the plans were changed, he would have to meet up with Tino and his friends. The idea of Berwald being antisocial could possibly still be in their heads. He didn't want to say something stupid that would make it seem as if he had never had any social interaction in his life. Maybe he shouldn't have agreed to go. He wasn't prepared at all. _What am I supposed to say? What'll we do while we're there, just walk around and talk? What are even gonna talk about? What if they're just pulling a joke on me? I'll end up at the mall, alone, wondering around, lost as fuck. I'll just cancel. But what if they actually do show and they'll think I ditched them, then I'll really look like a loser._

"Uh. Hi, what's up? I'm fine." He was practicing conversation, but couldn't think of any topics. He didn't know these people well enough to predict what they might talk about. _David likes comics and superhero movies. Maybe I could ask Matthias or Alfred for comic info._ Alfred was the one who introduced Matthias to comic books, who in turn, introduced them to Berwald. "I just started reading 'Saga.' It seems pretty cool so far." Nobody talked back; Berwald couldn't even think of a reply. He gave up on talking with himself and continued his shower. After drying himself off and brushing his teeth, he walked back into his room and put on a fresh pair of boxers, a T-shirt, pajama pants, and his glasses. He took his uniform from the bed and the underwear from the bathroom. He walked out to the kitchen. Under one of the counters were the washing machine and dryer. He checked if anything was inside the pockets of his uniform before tossing them into the washing machine, along with some old clothes that he had left unwashed until the machine was loaded. He took out a small plastic container from a nearby cabinet. He took out a pair of laundry pods from the container, popped them into the washer, and turned on the machine. He took a loaf of bread from another cabinet and placed the slices in the toaster. He waited until they jumped out the machine and placed the slices on a plate. He ate quietly and poured a cup of milk. After eating his afternoon breakfast, he went back up to his bedroom. He fell onto the bed and took off his glasses. He closed his eyes, trying to get a couple more hours of sleep. After twenty minutes of just lying with his eyes closed, he realized he wouldn't fall asleep anytime soon. He looked over to the corner of his room – a black bass guitar on its stand and a 100 watt bass amplifier. He rolled over to the other side of the bed and took a step to the stand. He pulled up the instrument and plugged it into the amp before turning it on. He sat back down on the edge of the bed. He set the guitar on his lap and began fingering at the individual strings, low strums filling the room. He hadn't played in over a year and wasn't sure if he still could. He strummed at the chords at random until a song popped into mind. He picked at the A-string, 2nd fret; D-string, 4th fret; A-string, 0 fret; and continued the intro until he could recall the verse. E-string, 7th fret; A-string, D-string, A-string all on 9th fret.

Another tune cut into his low singing. He paused the strumming and looked back to his phone, vibrating and ringing on the night stand. He stretched and reached for the mobile and answered the call.

"Hi."

"Hey, Ber," sang Matthias from the other end. "What's up?"

"Nothing much."

"Yo, so did you go the café I was talking about?" _Of course, he would bring that up._

"Yeah, um, here's the thing: I couldn't go. It wasn't in my area and y'know I can't leave my zone."

"I understand. It's fine."

"I'm sorry. Hey, you still read comics, right?"

"No, not really. I kinda dropped out of the comic book stuff in college. But Alfred still reads them."

"Okay. Can I ask you something else?"

"Shoot."

"Can you give me advice on how to make friends?"

"Why? Ya hangin' out with someone?"

" _No_ , just tryin' to make a couple friends at work."

"Okay, well first off, you gotta talk. You don't talk all that much, Ber, people won't just start hanging out with you if you're silent all the time."

" _I know that_. Anything else?"

"Be funny. Everyone loves to laugh so make some jokes. And you should try approach…"

Silence.

"Matthias?"

"How 'bout I come to your house and help you practice talking with people?" Matthias cooed.

"No, just give me advice through the phone."

"But you could practice conversations by talking to me and I could point out your weak points and stuff."

"I'll be fine."

" _Ber,_ _avoiding people is not how you make friends_. Let me come over and we can talk. I can even give you advice on body language and how to deal with people's emotions and give you joke ideas."

"Matthias, I can just practice on the spot, y'know, just having conversations with the other officers will be practice enough."

"Ber, what if you slip up or choke while you're talking? Just practice by talking with someone you're already comfortable with."

Berwald wasn't exactly _comfortable_ with Matthias. But he wasn't any more comfortable with these people either. He could accidentally do or say something that could turn them off. What if he said something that would turn _Tino_ off?

Berwald sighed. "Even if I do invite you over, how will we make time for it? When you come from work, I'll have to go to work."

"I'll find a way."

"Yeah, well, bye."

"I love you."

"Love you, too." Berwald ended the call. _Fantastic_. Knowing Matthias, the entire practice would only be about _body language_. Berwald was way too much of a pushover. It never took too much convincing to make him do something he didn't want to. _Why couldn't I just say 'no'?_

* * *

Berwald lied on the couch, watching television. He went to the menu screen and checked the time. _9:45 p.m._ He would have to go to prepare for work soon. Luckily, Matthias hadn't arrived. Berwald finished watching his show, turned off the television, and went to his room to shower and get into uniform. He still had about forty minutes to kill. The fridge was almost empty. Berwald decided that he would eat out and head straight to the station right after. He walked to the door, unlocked it, and…

"Whoa, are you psychic? I didn't even ring the doorbell yet." Matthias stood at the door, finger about to reach the buzzer.

"Hey, Matthias," Berwald sighed.

"Sorry, I'm later than I first expected, but I got you something." Matthias held up a paper bag and handed it to Berwald. It had a sweet baked odor.

"Thanks." They walked back to the couch and sat.

"So what exactly do you need help with?"

"I need help talking to people," Berwald answered.

"Right. You should try being funny and talking more."

"Yeah, you said that," Berwald said, nodding.

Matthias paused to think. "You should also approach people more. Not everyone is going to walk up to you and talk. You should go up to them and start talking."

Berwald nodded.

"Also you should try to smile more. You look pretty intense; people might be too scared to talk to you."

 _Why were people so stuck on appearances?_

"Ber," Matthias urged, "try to smile."

Berwald waved his hand dismissively and shook his head.

" _Please_."

"I'll smile when I'm talking with my coworkers," Berwald said, exasperated.

"Oh, so you'll smile for your coworkers, but not your brother? _Okay,"_ Matthias spoke with discontent.

Berwald flashed his teeth.

"Ber, smile, really."

"I don't feel like it. I don't even want to practice." Berwald tore open the paper bag and pulled out a crisp, golden brown Danish filled with mango jam. He took a bite out of the pastry and Matthias watched quietly as he chewed.

"It's good. Ten."

"Why are you suddenly interested in talking to people?" Matthias asked without warning.

Berwald shrugged. "Just felt like making a couple friends," he said, swallowing down the bits of food.

"But why? Didn't you like being alone?"

"Yes, but I just want someone to talk to sometimes."

"You can always talk to me."

" _Only you?_ "

"No, not only me," Matthias shrugged off. "You can have as many friends as you want – _as long as you don't get too close to them._ "

"What's wrong with getting close to someone?"

"The closer people are to you, the more they can hurt you. Remember what happened last time?"

"Yes, I do, but that was way back in middle school."

"I'm just trying to warn you. You can be really fragile."

"I don't need a warning," Berwald sneered. "You're talking me as if I don't know these things already."

"I didn't mean to come off that way," Matthias mumbled.

"Well, that's how you sound to me. I just want some space. I need other friends outside of just you."

"I get it and I'm not stopping you. I just don't want you to get attached to anyone."

"Matthias, when you say that, you sound as if you don't want me to have any friends at all."

"I-it's not like that; i…"

"Then why don't you want me to be close with anybody? Friends are people you are close to."

"B-but, but not closer than me, right? Because, y'know, friends come and g-g-go, but you'll, you'll always have me," Matthias spoke irrationally, his body twitching, fingers digging into the sofa cushions.

Berwald sighed. "Matthias, sometimes I want someone other than y…"

"W-w-w-w-wha-w-What's wrong with _m-me_?" Matthias asked anxiously. He began to pick and scratch at his neck. He was getting fidgety again. Berwald should have been more careful with his words.

"There's nothing wrong with you, Matthias," Berwald said in a more gentle voice.

"No, no, no, no, no, no, y-you said that y-y-y-y-you, you, you, you didn't want me." Matthias clenched on to Berwald's thigh. "I want to make you happy, Berwald. I-if I'm not making you happy, then t-tell mm-me-me what, what, what, what I'm doing wrong." He got onto Berwald's lap and straddled him. "D-d-d-d-d-do you, d-do you want m-me to make you feel good?" Before Berwald could answer, Matthias placed his hands on his brother's cheeks and smashed their lips together. Berwald pulled back, but Matthias pulled him back in. Berwald broke the kiss one last time. He said in a chipper tone, "It's fine now; see, I'm happy." Berwald forced on a grin and patted Matthias on the head.

"Bu-but you said…"

"All I said is that I wanted a couple friends and friends will never be as close as my big brother, right?"

"Yeah, yeah." Matthias' shivers were starting to go down. Berwald let out a breath of relief. That episode was triggered way too quickly. Matthias took up the paper bag and pulled out Berwald's unfinished Danish. He brought it to Berwald's mouth and he took a large bite. He smiled as he chewed. "It's good."

"You said that already."

Berwald nodded. "Yeah, because your food is really good, amazing." He wanted to make sure Matthias didn't start getting panicky again.

"I made another one for a snack during work. Oh, you should probably get going or you'll end up late." It seemed as Matthias reverted back to his usual self and had forgotten of what just happened.

"Yeah, thanks." Berwald quickly pecked his brother on the cheek. Matthias got up from Berwald's lap and followed him as he walked to the door. He kissed Berwald one more time on the porch and they strode to their cars.

"Bye," Matthias waved before getting into his vehicle.

"Byeee."

Matthias drove off, back home. Berwald sat in his car, not turning it on. He knocked his head onto the steering wheel and sighed through his nostrils. _Matthias is too much sometimes._

* * *

I'll probably go back and edit the past chapters again.

BTW Saga is an actual comic series by Brian K. Vaughan and Fiona Staples. I suggest u read it, i never read it, but i heard it's good.


	9. Chapter 9

The room was tinted violet with sunlight that poured through the purple curtains. Some light seeped into Matthias' eyes and they fluttered open and peered around. The bedroom was larger than he remembered. _Was that T.V always there_? _When did I move the drawer? That's new; I don't remember buying those paintings._ The entire place seemed unfamiliar with its misplaced furniture, wall murals, and unusual décor. There was a rustle in the sheets. Matthias looked down beside him at the sleeping stranger – just someone he met at the bar. He put two and two together and realized what must've happened. _Oh, this is her room._ He took a better look at the girl's face. _Not as hot as I remember, but still cute._ Soon the girl's eye's batted open and looked up at the man in her bed.

"Good morning," she chirped.

"G'morning." He propped himself up and laid back on the headboard. The girl also pulled herself up to the headboard.

"Err… so um… How are you?" she asked a bit awkwardly.

"I'm fine."

"Did you have any nice dreams?"

"Well, I died in the dream, so I guess not."

The chuckled and stroked her long brown hair. "Sorry if I seem a bit weird; I'm just not all that used to this kind of thing."

"No, it's okay," Matthias nodded understandingly.

"Are you hungry?"

"A little."

"I guess since I'm, like, your host, I'll have to make something."

"It's not like you have to; I could be one who makes you something."

"It's fine; I think I have left over pie in the fridge, so neither of us will have to make something. C-can you get me that shirt over there?" she asked, pointing to an oversized t-shirt hanging on one of the knobs of the drawer.

"That one?"

"Yeah," she nodded.

Matthias slipped from under the covers, but not before pulling up the boxer briefs that were hanging around his ankles. He walked over to the drawer, took the top, walked over to the opposite side of the bed, and handed the shirt to her.

"Thanks. I kinda feel weird about you... seeing me naked, so, um, can you turn around?"

He slowly rotated and waited for her to put on the shirt.

"Okay," she said, pulling her hair out from inside the shirt and draping it over the back. "So let's head over to the kitchen and get that pie." She marched to the door and Matthias followed after putting on his pants and tying the sleeves of his flannel shirt around his waist. Once out the door, he noticed another young girl – about the age of thirteen — sitting in the living room couch. She took a good hard look at Matthias, examining him from head to toe.

"Hi," Matthias waved.

The girl didn't reply and her face remained neutral. She turned to the woman, standing behind a counter that divided the den and kitchen. She raised a thumb's up of approval. The older girl burst into a fit of laughter. "Don't do that."

Matthias just smiled and walked over to the counter and took a seat at one of the tall chairs.

"Sorry, that's just my little sister being a weirdo."

"It's cool. I'd do the same if my sister smashed someone so..." he vogued his hands around his face. "majestic."

The girl giggled. "Here's the pie; help yourself."

Matthias stared at the half eaten Key Lime pie. He didn't like sweets, but he didn't want to seem rude and turn down her generous offer. He poked the fork into the pie and brought it into his mouth. He chewed and swallowed quickly, trying to keep himself from gagging. It honestly wasn't as bad as he initially thought, but he still only ate a few pieces.

"So umm… do you remember any of last night?" the girl asked nervously.

Matthias knitted his brows together, trying to piece together broken memories. "Er… I was at the bar, waiting for a friend of mine, he didn't turn up. He called and said he wasn't feeling well. I took a couple shots and was about to leave, but then I saw you, and you looked kind of sad. We talked, took even more shots, and that's about all I can remember."

"Yep, and now we're in my apartment."

"Mhm. Did I act cool or stupid?"

"I little bit of both. But at least you made my day – or night."

"Hehe, well, that's what I do," Matthias said jokingly.

"This is sort of an awkward question, but… do you remember my name?"

"Honestly, no," Matthias admitted.

"That's okay… _James_?"

"No,"he sighed.

"I guess that makes us even then," the girl chuckled once more.

"So, those paintings," Matthias said, trying to get to know the host, "you painted them."

"Yeah, I'm an artist. I take portraits, posters, book covers, teach lessons; I'm running a business."

"Nice, you're art's really good. Maybe I'll ask for something one day."

"Here's her business card with her number, website, and email," popped in the young girl in a robotic tone, white card in hand.

Matthias flinched at the unexpected voice. He took the card and put it in his pocket. "Thanks." He slapped the counter top as he stood up from the chair "It was nice meeting you, but I better get goin'. I don't want to overstay my welcome."

"It was nice meeting you, too. Hope to bump into you again." Though, both of them knew it was best not to contact each other after this.

Matthias looked back and saw the thirteen-year-old's deadpan expression. He smiled. Matthias put his shirt on and the woman led him to the door. They said their farewells before Matthias headed for the elevator to the ground floor. Standing outside the building's front entrance, he examined the tall towers around him. He recognized he was deep in the heart of the city, far away from home. The sun was high overhead, suggesting it was some time around noon, but he couldn't make sure for certain since his phone had died. He sniffed at his shirt and checked his breath. He didn't smell too bad, but he probably should've stayed over a little longer to at least brush his teeth. _Did they think i smelled bad?_ _Note: take a shower when I get home._ He walked around, trying to hail a cab – which took a bit longer than expected, considering he was at the center of a busy, bustling city.

After what seemed like an hour long drive, Matthias reached his house, ran upstairs, and jumped right into the tub. He ran a hot bath and sat as the water level rose. Today was a free day for both him and Berwald, so he wouldn't have to worry about Ber heading off to work if he showed up late. He turned off the tap before the water was too high. He sank into the water and some of it overflowed over the edge of the tub. _Ber sounded pretty sick and what kind of brother would I be if I didn't try to get him well? Besides, he did try to help me out with that pick pocket._

It has been a week since he first confronted the clerk at the café. In the three days that followed, during his break, he went back to the café and argued with the cashier and was repeatedly kicked out. Berwald eventually did arrive to "enforce justice," only after constant reminders and succumbing to uncomfortable over-sexualized appeals.

* * *

The brother duo walked into the establishment. Matthias held open the glass door for Berwald who followed behind. Matthias looked to the front of the line, behind the counter, at the wrong doer. Berwald followed his brother's crazed stare to a thin, pale, blonde, young man.

"Is that him?" Berwald asked.

"Yeah," Matthias sneered, maniacally narrowing his eyes and biting his lip, not breaking his gaze from the cashier.

"Okay so that'll be…" Lukas looked up from the cash register and made eye contact with the mad Dane ogling at him. His forced smile faded into a menacing glare.

"So that'll be?" asked the customer, still waiting to pay. He looked behind to see whatever the clerk was staring at and nervously turned back to the cashier after a glimpse of Berwald's stark expression.

"Oh, sorry," Lukas apologized, shaking back to reality. "That'll be twelve, ninety-nine."

The customer paid and Lukas gave him the change and receipt. Lukas continued to serve customers, but kept an eye on Matthias. He was now at the front of the line and looked down at the cashier with crossed arms and a supercilious toothy grin.

"This is the fifth time you've shown up just to fucking yell at me. If you don't leave now, I'm calling the police," Lukas threatened, wearing his default callous expression.

"I've already called the police." Matthias tilted his head to Berwald. "This is my brother – the cop. The one you said 'could kiss your ass,' 'suck your dick,' 'go fuck himself,' and all those other nice things you talked about in the past few days."

Lukas looked Berwald up and down. He remained dauntless as he stared into Berwald's signature glare.

"He doesn't look like a cop," he commented, referring to Berwald's casual clothing.

"I'm off-duty," Berwald answered.

"An off-duty cop is still a cop; he can still arrest you," Matthias smirked.

"All are innocent until proven guilty; he can't arrest me without proper evidence." Lukas took another look at Berwald. "He honestly looks like he doesn't want to be here."

 _I don't._

The manager took notice of the familiar wild blonde hair and paced to the cashier's side. "Please leave. You've been coming in and making huge scenes for days. You're making the customers uncomfortable. We've told you a million times; he doesn't have your wallet."

"The guy behind him with the scary face is his police man brother that he doesn't shut up about."

" _Oh_." The manager shakily broke eye contact with Matthias then looked to Berwald. "I-I would like to see some form of identification."

Berwald reached into his pocket and fished out his police I.D. The manager looked at the card and nodded and cleared his throat.

"I'm sorry, si—officer , but as I've told your brother, there is no wallet of his in this building and such disputes should be taken outside the workplace."

"I understand, but I would like to search the locker room, if there is one, for myself," Berwald said.

"Yes, officer."

The manager led them to the back room and Berwald conducted his search of Lukas' locker. There was a white jacket and a backpack. Inside the pack was a phone, its charger, a change of clothes, bottle of Xanax, and a wallet.

"Is this it?" Berwald asked his brother, showing him the only wallet he found inside.

"No," Matthias shook his head.

"It's mine," Lukas said, walking to Berwald and snatching the wallet out his hand.

"Then he doesn't have your wallet. Let's go." Berwald felt anxious about having to be here. He didn't have a warrant to conduct a search and feared he would be caught by someone from work or called out by one of the employees. He didn't know why he couldn't just turn down his brother's requests or just tell Matthias he didn't have permission to do this. He was risking his job just to humor Matthias' obsessive grudge.

"Even the cop said it; I don't have your wallet." the clerk exulted.

"Well, check the other lockers; maybe they hid it somewhere else," Matthias argued.

"May I?" Berwald asked, turning to the manager. He nodded. Berwald proceeded to thoroughly examine each locker. Matthias' confidence lowered as he moved from one locker to the next.

"Sorry, but your wallet isn't here," Berwald rephrased, shaking his empty hands.

Matthias' brows knitted together. "I know that guy took my wallet… Search his house!"

"I can't do that without a warrant."

"HA!" Lukas pointed at Matthias. "Now leave!"

Matthias kissed his teeth and shook his head, letting out a loud sigh through his nostrils. Suddenly, a memory popped into mind. "Wait, wait, wait. I have witnesses. My friends were with me and they saw what happened." Matthias pulled out his phone and went through his contacts. He put the phone on speaker as it began to ring.

"Dude, quit trying. You've already lost; the cop said I don't have it."

Matthias refused to listen and rolled his eyes.

"Hey, man. What's up?" A voice greeted through the mobile.

" 'sup Gil. You remember when we went to the park and the guy pinched my wallet?"

"Yeah."

"You still remember what he looked like?"

"Sorry, man. ' Didn't see his face. And even if I did I'd probably ''ve forgotten it by now."

"Thanks for nothing."

"No problem." With that, Matthias hung up the call. A smug grin began to curl the cashier's lips.

"I still have one more witness," Matthias said before calling another one of his contacts. "Hey, Alfred."

" 'sup." Low dialogue could be heard in the background, possibly from the television.

"You have amazing memory." _Why didn't I call him first?_

"Mhm."

"You still remember how the guy who pick pocketed looked like?"

"Uhhh, he was on his phone. He was shorter than you 'cause ,like, his head hit your chest."

"Ah _,_ shorter than me, huh?" Matthias walked over to Lukas and waved a hand from the top of Lukas' head to the corresponding height on his body. "Shorter than me."

Lukas rolled his eyes.

"Continue."

"Well, I think he had a white hoodie…"

"OH MY GOD!" Matthias raced back to Lukas' locker and pulled out the jacket. "WHITE HOODIE!"

"Oh shit, I've been found out," Lukas sobbed. "You caught me. The thief had a white hoodie and I have a white hoodie, so I-I must be the thief. Because, apparently, I'm the only person in this entire fucking city with a white hoodie like this, even though you can find it in any store in town." He glumly sauntered to Berwald. He raised his wrists to the officer. "Take me away, officer. I am the thief because, y'know, I have a white hoodie and that's enough evidence to charge me with theft."

"He also said the thief was shorter than me and you're shorter than me," Matthias added.

"Oh my God, that's true!" Lukas cried. "I am shorter than you – even though, you're really tall, so there are probably at least seven million people in this country who are gonna be shorter than you." Lukas looked to the manager and sniffled. "Charles, I'm going to jail because I'm average height."

"Dude, shut up," barked Matthias.

"How 'bout you shut up, you loud mouth."

"WHY ARE YOU SO GODDAMN MEAN?"

"Why are you so goddamn loud?"

"Are you two done?" Berwald cut in. "Matthias, let Alfred finish talking."

"Tell me more about how the guy looked like, but be more specific this time. How did his face look like?" Matthias said into the phone.

"I didn't see his face all that well. I honestly can't remember that much about the guy; I didn't pay all that much attention to 'im."

"You sure? You can't remember anything else?"

"Nope."

"Thanks for the help."

"Anytime."

Matthias cut off the call. "Well, he is shorter than me and he has a white hoodie, sooooo…"

"Dude, you're really stupid. Me being shorter than you and having a white jacket doesn't prove that I stole your wallet. It just proves that I'm shorter than you and I have a white jacket."

"He has a point," Berwald agreed. "I can't arrest him for that."

"Ber, you're supposed to be on backing _me_ up," Matthias whined.

"The law isn't biased."

"But family is." Matthias mewled.

"Well, I guess that solves the issue; he doesn't have your wallet," the manager added. "Have a nice day, and if you want to eat anything, you can order on your way out."

Berwald and Matthias walked out the building, Matthias rushing out grouchily. He still wasn't satisfied with the verdict. _He is definitely the guy; I can feel it._ The next day, he went back to the café. At the door, he noticed a leaflet on the glass. It was a black and white picture of him from the security camera. At the bottom was a bold caption. _Banned_. He peered through the window, at the cashier. The clerk took notice and wiggled his fingers patronizingly at him. Matthias flipped him off before stomping back to work.

* * *

 _You know what, fuck it. I'll give it a rest. I can't go to the café anymore and I don't think I'll ever get my wallet back._ He blew into the water and watched as the little bubbles popped on the surface. He was defeated. He wasted more than enough of his time on that clerk, why waste any more? Today, Berwald's health was his main concern.

After washing up, brushing his teeth, and dressing, he looked through all his drawers and cabinets, scavenging for medicines and pain killers. He looked closely at the labels to see if some were expired and checked the contents to see if there was enough. He didn't have that many drugs in his house, but most of what he could find had either expired months prior or was almost finished. All he could use was a half-full pack of Ibuprofen. This wouldn't be enough to suffice. He took the phone that he had been charging since he got home and the new wallet he bought the day before along with the pills and went to the car. He reversed the out the driveway and drove from the street onto the road. At the red light, he pulled out his phone and searched up "foods for headaches," and "foods for flu." The light turned green and he continued on to the grocery store. He parked and turned off the car and briskly walked through the parking lot and grabbed a basket once he entered the store. He looked at his phone and scrolled down the list of foods claimed to relieve headaches and influenza. He went from aisle to aisle, from the meat section to the veggies and fruits. Now all he needed was chicken soup. He walked to the lane with shelves lined with cans of broths, stews, and soups. He followed the shelves down, looking for what he needed. Near the end of the aisle, a store worker was squatted down, restocking the lower shelves. Matthias approached the worker and asked, "Um excuse me, I need some help finding the chicken soup." The worker froze in place, a can of spaghetti still in his hand.

"Oh my God," he groaned under his breath, not turning around to face the customer.

Matthias furrowed his brow at the unexpectedly rude response. The employee didn't move.

"Hello, I need some help."

The employee stifled an aggravated sigh, reached up to one of the higher shelves, and tossed a can back with a flick of his wrist. Matthias caught the can and read the label.

"This is canned ravioli; I asked for chicken soup."

"You can find the chicken soup on the other end of the aisle, on the third shelf, under the beef stew," he drawled in a familiar dreariness.

"Uhuh." The impolite behavior was starting to make sense. "Can you show me to the soup?"

The worker quickly got up and went over to fetch the can. Matthias got enough of a glimpse of his face to confirm his suspicions. He followed behind the employee. The worker grabbed a can and forcefully shoved it into Matthias' chest.

"Can you do that again, but more gentle this time?"

"Did you seriously come here just to mess with me?" The worker finally revealed his face, which he didn't do a very good job at hiding.

"I didn't even know you worked here. Don't you work at the café?"

"Can't a guy have two jobs?"

Matthias shrugged.

Lukas blew air through his nostrils. "Dude, please don't blow up with that wallet bullshit here. Do you know how humiliating and infuriating it is to get screamed at by some random guy for five days. Now you got a bunch of people thinking I steal stuff with all these false accusations. Even a couple of my coworkers think I can't be trusted. I don't need that here, guy. And if you are here just here to yell at me, I'm gonna report you, and you're gonna get banned from here, too."

Matthias nodded. "I'm sorry. It is pretty messed up that I show up to your work just to be mean to you, but I have forgiven you…"

"Forgiven me for what? I didn't do anything, so there's nothing to forgive me for."

"I mean to say that I've gotten over it and I am very sorry for humiliating and screaming at you ..."

"And ruining my reputation."

"And ruining your reputation."

"And getting my paycheck deducted."

Matthias furrowed his brow. "I didn't do that."

"Charles deducted my paycheck for using foul language in front of the customers."

"That ain't my fault."

"It is. You provoked me; I wouldn't curse you out if you didn't scream at me," Lukas pointed out.

"Okay, I'm sorry for provoking you. Can we just be friends?" Matthias held out his hand and faked an apologetic smile.

Lukas eyes shot around the area as if he were looking for an answer. He rubbed at his chin, sucked in his lips, shook his head. "No." he slapped away Matthias' hand.

"I am truly sorry for doing all of it, okay? I will never mess with you again."

"I still won't forgive you."

"C'mon, man, why you gotta be like that? I'm tryna bury the hatchet."

"Well, I'm gonna excavate that fucker. You think I can just forgive you," Lukas snapped his fingers, "like that? No. You hurt my feelings and tried to get me arrested." He crossed his arms.

"And I'm sorry for that..."

"Not only that, but you tried to come the day after your brother said I was clean and yell at me again; I saw you. The only reason you didn't go inside was because you were banned from the place. And the only reason you're apologizing now is because you realize that you're a dumbass."

"Don't call me a dumbass. I'm saying I'm sorry."

"Okay, so? I _said_ that I didn't do anything, but you still came back. Words don't mean anything."

Matthias blew out a sigh and reached into his pocket. He pulled out his wallet.

"And you had your wallet this entire time?"

"No, I bought this a couple days ago. Here." He handed Lukas a twenty.

"You can't buy my forgiveness and even if you could, it wouldn't be as cheap as twenty bucks."

"Then give me the money back," Matthias said, opening his palm.

"No." Lukas stuffed the bill into his pocket.

Matthias glared at Lukas with a deep frustration. He took a deep breath and tried to keep his composure. "Y'know, we don't actually have to be friends; we could just leave the past in the past and never talk to each other ever again."

"Nah, I hold grudges for a long time, okay; I don't forgive and forget, so until you get your due punishment, I won't be satisfied. I will find away to make you suffer. "

Matthias shrugged off the warning. "Sure, whatever; Can you give me my soup?"

"You have arms; they work. Do it yourself," Lukas spat before walking off.

Matthias crinkled his nose. He took a can of chicken soup and went to the shelf Lukas had just arranged. He stood there and looked back at Lukas. He inserted his arm into the shelf.

"What are you doing?" Lukas growled with hidden concern. He quickened his pace, but before he could reach...

"Oops," Matthias smirked. With a wave of his arm, half of the cans poured onto the ground, clinking and clanging as they hit the floor and rolled around and bumped into each other.

"Pick them up," Lukas ordered through his clenched teeth.

"It's not my job. You just threatened me. You said you were going to make me suffer, so I'll make you suffer." Matthias smirked.

"Pick. Them. Up. Asshole."

"Nope."

Lukas' breathing had quickened and his hands were balled into fists. "I swear to God you're the biggest cunt I've ever met. I hope you die of AIDS. Oh wait, you actually have to get laid to catch and STD. I hope you get cancer." He squatted down and picked up the cans and put them back into the shelves, cursing in Norwegian under his breath.

" Actually, I do get laid. I had sex last night."

"Mmmhmm, sure." Lukas rolled his eyes.

"Y'know, if you asked nicely, I might possibly help. I'm a pretty nice guy who responds best to positive vibes."

"Nice guys don't fuck up five to ten minutes worth of work," Lukas remarked.

Matthias got down on one knee, picked up a can and inserted into the shelf.

"Oh wow, so helpful; too bad there's at least thirty cans left, not to mention: you put it in the wrong place, you fuckhead."

"Well, enjoy your can stacking." Matthias sang as he walked off.

"I HATE YOU!"

As Matthias walked to the checkout lane, seeds of guilt started sprouting. What he did was quite childish, even by his standards. He deserved it; he was being mean first. _Damn my good morals!_ He turned and race walked back to the aisle. He knelt down next to Lukas. He took the cans from the ground and put them into the shelf.

"You're lucky I actually am a good person," Matthias grouched.

"I'm still not going to forgive you."

"Whatever."

* * *

After paying for the items, he went to a nearby pharmacy to buy medication. Once his little shopping spree had ended, he drove to Berwald's house. He put the two plastic bags in one hand and vigorously pressed on the doorbell.

"Hey, Ber, can I come in?" Matthias said as Berwald opened the door.

"What are those bags for?" Berwald asked, noticing the bag's in his brother's hand.

"You said you weren't feeling well, so I thought I could get you some stuff to help you feel better."

Berwald hesitated to reply from a bit of confusion, but quickly got things together. "I also remember saying that you didn't need to come over and I'm actually feeling better now."

Matthias placed his palm on Berwald's forehead. "Your temperature seems good, too. Now I feel stupid because I bought this stuff for no reason." He chuckled.

"What are in those bags?"

"Oh, um, so I searched up online for a bunch of foods and stuff that could help cure colds and reduce headaches and I thought, y'know, I could make you, like, a 'healing meal.'"

Berwald took a closer look at the grocery bag. "How are spicy chips and tabasco sauce supposed to make me feel better?"

"Spicy foods reduce headache," Matthias shrugged. "May I come in?"

Berwald nodded. Matthias let himself in and went to the kitchen to drop the bags. He plopped onto the couch next to his brother.

"Are you sure you're okay, though?"

"Yes, I'm fine," Berwald answered.

"M'kay," Matthias nodded. "How's work been on the night shift?"

"Not much happens; mainly just drunk drivers and nuisance report calls; nothing too crazy."

"That's good." He rested his arm on the back of the sofa and rested his head on his shoulder. "Let me be honest with you: as cool as it is, you being a cop and all, doing all this crime fighting, it scares me. I'm scared you'll get hurt one day. When you tell me stuff like 'I was in a shootout with some drug dealers,' or 'I was in a high speed chase with robbers,' I think that it's super cool my brother has an action packed life, but at the same time, I'm having a heart attack. Life is already short, but with a job like yours, you're practically testing your luck. You might think that I'm clingy, but that's just me trying to make as much memories with you in case something happens."

"Clingy," was a bit of an understatement, but the sentimentality was appreciated.

"Ber, why did you want to become a police officer anyway?"

Berwald shrugged apathetically. There was no special reason for him becoming a cop; he had the same motives as any other person on the force. "I want to protect people. Not everyone has the bravery to protect themselves, let alone protect others, and since I'm one of the few that does, I should use it to benefit society rather than doing some… boring ass office job."

 _He's so selfless._ "Yeah, but you're so smart. You could've chosen to be a scientist or a, a lawyer or a doctor." Matthias wiggled his finger suggestively. "Doctors protect people, kind of. They save lives and don't risk their own the process."

 _Scientist, lawyer, doctor_. Of course, boring jobs that were expected of a scrawny nerd in specs. That may have been another reason why Berwald didn't choose those careers. He wanted to do something unexpected, something thrilling, something not boring.

"There's nothing we can do about it now; I went through the academy and I've already got the job."

"You can always quit," Matthias proposed all too eagerly.

"I'm not quitting." And as long as Tino still worked there, quitting wasn't going to be an option.

Matthias sighed in disappointed acceptance. "Is it fun, at least? What's the point of continuing if you don't enjoy it?"

"Meh, I guess. You never know what to expect and you meet some pretty interesting characters. And I work a very lively part of town…"

"What part of town?" Matthias cut in.

Berwald furrowed his brow in minor annoyance.

"The sc… La Costa."

"Oh, that's a really nice place, but it's super far. You go there every night?"

"Yes," Berwald answered.

Matthias oohed in childish enthusiasm. "Can you take me?"

"I'm not sure; whe…"

"Right now."

"No, I'm not ready at all to go out and it's sort of far."

"Well, I guess you better get ready because we got a long drive ahead of us."

"Naw, I don't want t'go," Berwald drawled.

"Fine, then when is a better time?"

"I don't know; next week, next month; I honestly don't really care. I go there all the time and it's not that interesting of a place."

"But you've never gone with me. Maybe you're just bored because you only do boring stuff. Cops just sit in the car and watch stuff happen, right? But now you can go out with me and actually do some fun stuff."

"Such as?"

"There are a lot of clubs and bars there."

"Yes, because I just love getting drunk," Berwald said sarcastically.

Matthias knitted his eyebrows in thought. La Costa wasn't known for much else aside from the bars and clubs. Well, there were a couple hotels and casinos, but that seemed a bit much. The beach, maybe?

Matthias snapped his fingers when the perfect location popped into mind: "The boardwalk."

"That's even further away, like, at the very end of La Costa," Berwald complained.

"But it's very nice, especially at night."

Berwald shook his head.

"Please. Because we could die at any moment, Ber, so we gotta make use of the time we know we still have. What if I die? You're just gonna, just gonna sulk around and cry and regret that you didn't go out with me to the boardwalk." Matthias deepened his voice. "I should have gone out with my big brother more often, showed him all my love and appreciation, man. We could've made great memories at the boardwalk, but we can't make anymore memories because he's dead."

"Was that supposed to be me?"

"Yeah," Matthias answered in his still deepened voice.

"If I agree to go, will you stop doing that?"

"Uhuh."

"Stop."

"Okay."

Berwald sighed exasperatedly. "I'll get ready."

* * *

Matthias volunteered to drive. It was a long ride and by the time they reached the boardwalk, it was already evening. Berwald and Matthias simultaneously stepped out the parked car. Across the street was the wooden avenue, lined with large restaurants, bars, and cafés. Behind those buildings, the boardwalk extended with more eateries as well as surf shops, clubs, boutiques, and other places of attraction. Farther down was an amusement park on the pier, with rides and attractions that added a neon glow to the fading sky. Sea breeze from the nearby beach cooled down the summer night and seabirds cawing in the background kept the scene from being too quiet. Of course such a place would be popular, especially during this time of year. Tourists and locals going up and down the path, hanging out with friends, taking in the sights, or just doing some evening exercises.

"Alright, let's get going," Matthias said as he began his stride to the lively zone. Berwald wasn't far behind and quickly was at his side.

"What do you want to do first?" Matthias asked, turning to Berwald; he shrugged. "Just walk?"

"Whatever; it was your idea to come; I thought you had already had some sort of list of things to do," Berwald spoke lamely.

Matthias looked around for anything that looked interesting. In a place as active as this, there was always something exciting. There was a small crowd gathered to the side of the boardwalk, near the front of a shop.

"Wanna check what that's about?"

"Sure. It's probably a performer."

"Yeah."

They walked to the small group. At the center gathering, there was, as expected, a street performer, a magician. He wore a black and white striped long sleeve shirt and skinny jeans that looked too skinny. His eyes were red and he had presumably fake fangs to create the idea he was a vampire. On his shaggy light brown hair, he wore a bowler hat. He walked up to a young woman in the crowd who was recording the show on her phone.

"Can I see this?" he said in a light eastern European accent. It was hard to tell if it was just part of the act or if it was how he genuinely spoke.

"Yeah," the girl nodded.

The magician took the phone from her hands and examined it closely as he walked back to the center. He flipped in his hands and looked at it from every angle.

"Is this a new model?" he questioned, not taking his eyes off the phone.

"Yes and I just got it so please be gentle with it," the girl chuckled.

"Oh, don't worry; I'll be very, very…" _VEEESSH!_ With a flick of the wrist, he flung the phone into the air, not even looking back to where it may have landed. The woman shrieked and looked in the direction of where it may have gone. She was in a frenzy, running up and down, asking people if they saw it land near them. She had a mini heart attack when she realized the phone was nowhere to be found.

"Where is it?" she asked, panicking.

The magician still kept his smug demeanor. "Did you check your pockets or your purse?"

The girl fished through her pockets and her purse. "It's not there."

He patted himself and searched through all his own pockets. "Oooh, it's not on me either. Wait, did you come here with a friend?"

"Her," she said looking back to another girl in the crowd.

"Can you call or text her phone?" he asked the friend. The friend complied and when she hit call, a ringtone immediately began to play. She ran in the direction of the noise and bystanders looked around for the source.

"I still can't find it."

"Try looking up," he said with a mischievous grin.

"Oh my God, that's so crazy!" Hovering above her head, her phone was high in the sky. The audience clapped and cheered.

"That's pretty cool," Berwald mumbled, impressed by the display.

"It's fake. There's probably, like, a string or something; she's probably an actor. It's not magic," Matthias scoffed in blatant disbelief.

"Ooooh, I hear a nonbeliever," sang the magician, snapping his fingers, dropping the phone from where it flew. "Come here."

Matthias walked forward to the center.

"You don't believe in my power?"

"Nope," Matthias shook his head.

"Well, I'm gonna make you believe with this little trick: good old fashion fortune telling; nothing too flashy or too crazy. Hold out your hands."

Matthias rolled his eyes patronizingly and held out his hands. The magician took off his bowler hat above Matthias palms. He gave it a good tap and out dropped a crystal ball. Matthias was a bit overwhelmed by the sudden addition of weight and the ball almost fell out his grasp. Another round of applause.

"Now watch." The magician stared into the ball and waved his hands for a more magical effect.

"Nothing's happening."

"That's because you don't have magic eyes." He continued swaying his arms and wiggling his fingers. "You will find love in the most unlikely of people."

"I call bull. That's so general and vague; I could read something like that in a fortune cookie."

"If you want me to go deep and start talking about your destiny and stuff, that requires me to look into your personal life and I don't want to invade your privacy or anything."

"No, go ahead. Go deep into my destiny, bro. I wanna hear this."

"Okay, fine." He recommenced the hand gestures as he looked into the glass. His face cringed. "I see you have a… _connection_ with someone in the crowd. That guy," he said looking to Berwald.

"Yeah, he's my brother."

"Ce pula mea?" he cursed under his breath. His face twisted in disgust as he looked from Berwald to Matthias.

"So what did you see?"

"Some... rated R type stuff," the magician gulped in a low voice, making sure the rest of the crowd couldn't hear.

Berwald had gone white. A cold anxiety settled itself in his gut.

"Just tell me what you saw, dude."

"Uhh, you're going to do something very bad, even worse than what you're doing now," he whispered. He looked concernedly at Berwald. Now, the Swede was even more terrified. Matthias caught on to the staring.

"Is something going to happen to my broth..."

"Matthias, let's go," Berwald said with a stern voice.

"Wait a minute; I still want to he…"

" _Let's go_!"

"Just let me…"

" _Now."_

"Okay, jeez. Here's your magic ball back." Matthias dropped the glass into the magician's hands and walked to his brother's side. They left the crowd and Berwald walked as quickly as possible, trying to distance himself from both the magician and Matthias.

"MY CONDOLENCES!" the magician screamed in the distance.

"Hey, wait up," called Matthias when finally reached him again. "What was that about?"

"I didn't like the show; let's do something else," expressed Berwald.

"Couldn't it wait until after a heard my 'fortune.'"

"You said it yourself; the magic's fake. He probably was gonna say something made up."

Matthias could tell from his rushed voice that something was upsetting Berwald.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing; I just got bored."

"I know that's not why; just tell me."

" _It's nothing._ " He didn't even look at Matthias. He didn't want him to notice his eyes were glossing over. Berwald wasn't going to tell and Matthias didn't want to force it out of him or else it may distress him even more.

"Alright," Matthias breathed. "So what do you wanna try?"

"I don't know, a ride? Maybe a couple games." Anything to get his mind of that too close call.

They walked down the boardwalk to the pier – the whole time, Berwald feeling a bit anxious, as if he was the center of everyone's negative attention. The entrance was a wide gate with a bright sign overhead, reading "Port Wonder." They walked over to the ticket booth that divided the entrance. A cheery teen sat in the lit booth in his royal blue uniform polo shirt.

"Hi, welcome to Port Wonder," he greeted once the two reached the window.

"Hey," Matthias replied. He looked at the price board and to Berwald. "So which rides do you want to try?"

Berwald wasn't really a fan of fast rides, and the screams and whooshing metal-on-metal roars sounded a bit intimidating. He simply shrugged.

"If you can't pick just one, why not try all?" the ticket worker suggested. "All summer long, we're offering the "Unlimited Games & Rides" pass for only twenty-five dollars."

"So that's fifty bucks for the whole night?" Matthias asked.

"Actually there's a three hour time limit."

"Ber, are you fine with that?"

He hummed in affirmation. He reached into his pocket to pull out his wallet.

"You don't have to; I'll pay," Matthias grinned. He slid the money into the slot and the teen slid the cards.

He smirked. "Enjoy your date."

Berwald glowered at the ticket worker. "We're not a couple," he austerely rectified.

"Oh. But have fun anyway."

The two men walked into the gates and roamed to look for something that may be exciting, though Berwlad walked at a much quicker pace, forming a gap that continued to widen. _Is that what people think? They think we're dating?_ Matthias sped up to catch up.

"You want to try that ride over there?" Matthias said pointing to a swing ride, aptly named "The Sky Swirl."

Berwald sighed anxiously. The machine was extremely tall and looked like it was going rather fast. It did look terrifying, but still had some appeal to it. "Sure," he said warily.

As soon as Berwald got into the line, he regretted his decision. The ride ended and the line began moving. The worker swiped their passes and Berwald gave him his glasses. They walked to the contraption. The seats were in pairs. Matthias sat with Berwald and secured them in. _We're sitting. Together. It's not weird for two guys to sit together on a ride. No one would assume we were related and I'm pretty sure no one would think we were in a relationship either. Actually that ticket guy did, so maybe other people might also. Is anyone looking?_

"Are you ready?" Matthias asked, jittery and excited.

"No."

After the worker checked all the seats, they began their ascent. The machine began to whirl once they got high enough off the ground, but it still continued to go higher. It spun faster and faster; all its patrons (including Matthias) began screaming and whooping, except Berwald, who squeezed his eyes and mouth shut. How was this enjoyable? Shooting through the sky with cold air smacking you in the face, your body being forced back, and the risk of plummeting to your death. _Why did I agree to this?_

"Ber, open your eyes; the view is awesome!"

It was a 360 degree view of the pier. All the neon of the rides and stalls, the people on the ground, ant-like in the low distance. The rest of La Costa could even be seen, the clubs, the beach, the park; all being taken in in quick glimpses as the contraption spun. The sky above them, even at this height, was still as boring as Tino said it was. The machine didn't seem as terrifying as it was at first.

"Matthias, I'm blind, not to mention everything is moving. All I see is motion blur." Berwald almost yelled, trying to overcome the whooshing winds.

"Oh, yeah! Just know that you can see the whole area from up here!"

Sooner than expected, the machine began its descent, slowing its swing. The seats leisurely rotated and came to stop, mere feet off the ground. The worker went to each bench and unfastened the riders. Matthias and Berwald asked the worker for Berwald's glasses back and continued their roam of the fair. _No one was looking at us, good._

It wasn't long before, Matthias spotted another "fun" ride.

"Let's go on that one," he said pointing to a speeding roller coaster filled with drops and loopty-loops and corkscrews.

"Ummmmm, okay."

* * *

After a handful of adrenaline rushing, heart pumping thrill rides, Berwald finally decided enough was enough.

"Let's just go and eat or go to the arcade or something. I'm starting to get a headache."

"Yeah, okay. We'll try the arcade and then eat or do you want to eat and then go to the arcade."

"I don't care which; I just don't want to go on anymore rides."

"To the arcade."

They walked side by side to the arcade, Matthias being a bit too close for comfort. Berwald looked around; making sure no one was watching. Berwald was always a bit on edge whenever he went out with Matthias, always a bit nervous about catching people's attention. But right now, he was more paranoid and also quite angry at Matthias. The only reason he didn't storm off home earlier was because that would make things look suspicious – though urging to leave in the middle of a magic show was enough to raise a few concerns. And they came in Matthias' car. He was somewhat hoping that the amusement park would get his mind off of it, but the constant feel of being watched made him even more fretful. He walked faster and widened the gap between them. Matthias also picked up the pace, but Berwald would continue to quicken. Matthias giggled.

"Are we having race?"

Berwald didn't answer. He was trying to make as much distance as possible, but Matthias, being incredibly fucking dense, couldn't realize that – but if he did realize it, he may have had another episode, which would get a lot more people's attentions, so in a way, his denseness was a good thing.

They got to the arcade and went over to the first thing that caught Matthias' attention:

"Want to play some air hockey?"

Air hockey. _That's, like, a two-player game, right? Two people exclusively playing a game, with only each other. That may come off as a little intimate to someone watching. I mean, what if someone thought that Matthias and I were together just because of a little game of air hockey. No, that's ridiculous. Do people just assume that people have intimate relationships just because a game of air hockey? Maybe they'll think we're just friends. I've never looked at two people playing air hockey and thought that they were probably fucking and…_

"Ber, you wanna play or not?"

"Huh." Berwald hadn't noticed; he was too deep in paranoid thought.

"I asked if you wanted to play air hockey; are you okay?" Matthias asked a tad worried.

 _No_.

"Yeah, just thinking about some stuff. Let's go play."

They went to the table and took the two strikers. They swiped their passes on the side of the table and the air started flowing from the pores on the white surface. Matthias struck the puck; Berwald deflected it. Another strike, another ricochet. Neither were scoring; they matched each other in reaction. But Berwald noticed in the corner of his eye, a group of girls, five maybe, giggling and chatting, and one of them was just looking at them. When she noticed Berwald looking, she averted her gaze. _CLINK!_

"Score!" Matthias cheered.

Berwald brought his attention back to the game. He took the puck from the slot and served it. His eyes switched from the board to the girl, who would pretend as if she wasn't staring. The weight of her judgmental eyes. _Why is she looking our way?_ _CLINK!_

"Another score goes to me; you better get your head in the game, Ber. I'm gonna win."

"Right," Berwald muttered. Again he took the puck and a quick glance to the observer. She was saying something to a friend, a girl in a head scarf. The friend also glanced back at them and quickly turned. _Were they talking about us?_ And then something hit. That girl was at the magician's show. What if he told her what he saw? What if he told everyone? All those people roaming around, secretly chastising them and spreading rumors. It felt as if everyone was just staring at him and Matthias. The pressure was suffocating and he couldn't handle it.

"Matthias, I want to go home," he choked.

"What? But we still have about an hour left on these cards."

"I don't care; I wanna go home, now. I'm t-tired."

Matthias sighed, discouraged. "Is there something bothering you? You've been acting weird."

"I'm not acting weird just… lets, lets go." Berwald didn't give Matthias another say on the matter and started his walk. He didn't know or care if Matthias was following, but knowing him, he probably was.

"Berwald, what's the matter?" Matthias pleaded as he approached.

"Nothing is the matter."

Matthias continued to pry as they walked back to the car. Berwald would just give him some variation of "there's nothing wrong," and at one point stopped answering all together. He banged the door when he entered. It was a long and quiet drive. Though he was hard to read and he usually didn't show his true feelings, this was one of the few times Berwald seemed distressed. Whenever he was deeply upset, he was more emotionally vulnerable and closer to Matthias; he would just gush out his feelings. But now, he was just quiet, which made Matthias all the more worried.

They reached Berwald's house and Matthias parked the car in the driveway. Berwald hurriedly got out the car and slammed its door shut. He paced to the front door. As Matthias approached him, he noticed that Berwald had still not unlocked the door. His hands were shaky and agitated; he kept jamming the key into the lock, but kept missing the keyhole. He finally got it in, unlocked the door, and flung it open.

"Berwald, what's wrong?" Matthias pleaded for an answer.

"Nothing's wrong; I'm perfectly fine." Even though his voice sounded the exact opposite. "I'm just tired, okay? You know how people get all aggro when they get tired; that's what's going on; I'm tired and grouchy."

"Berwald if there's something wrong, just tell me."

"I'm telling you ' I'm just tired.' I wanna sleep and you should probably go home." Berwald forced himself to calm his tone. "It's late and you have to start work super early and what are you supposed to do here while I'm asleep. Just go home; get some rest. "

"Ber…"

"Goodnight."

Matthias let out a defeated sigh. "Goodnight." As he leaned in to kiss him, Berwald turned his head a bit. Matthias' lips just barely brushed his cheek. Matthias turned back to the car and Berwald didn't waste any time to shut the door. Matthias got back into the car and drove off.

Berwald stomped into his room, ripped off his jacket, and through it at the headboard. His breathing had sped up and deepened. He dropped to the bed and put his head his head in his hands, wriggling his fingers through his hair. The way the magician looked at him. Such disgust and pity in his eyes. Berwald didn't even need to hear his words to know what he saw. Now, some complete stranger knew Berwald's secret and could do with it what he wished. What if he told someone? Is that how the girl found out? Is that why she was looking? What if that information found its way to Tino and his colleagues? What would they think of him? They would be disgusted – just as Berwald felt towards himself. It was so painfully humiliating to be stuck in such a relationship with his brother. He didn't want anyone to think they were _that close._ Brothers? Fine. Friends? Okay. But lovers? No, not at all. And is Matthias fucking retarded or something?

 _Oh, I'm gonna use magic to look into your personal life._

 _That's cool, bro. There's nothing too private; y'know, just cake recipes, video game cheat codes, weird foreign porn, and hot, steamy moments of me tonguing down my little bro since, like, the third grade. Nothing crazy._

 _Dude, that's pretty fuckin' weird, but do you mind if I say it out loud in front of this big ass group of people?_

 _Naw, man, that's alright. You should probably post it online, too. Let the whole world know about how much I just fucking love my little brother – or should I say "love fucking my little brother!" AHUR DA HUR DUHUR! I'm fucking stupid!_

Was Matthias really that fucking clueless? Didn't he know how society felt about something so taboo? Does he not realize that such things were done behind closed doors for a reason? Berwald wanted so badly to cry out and scream. He honestly wanted to ditch Matthias when he had the chance, but he couldn't just do that right on the spot. He should've never agreed to going out. None of that would've happened. The magician and the staring and the gossiping.

* * *

 _What was wrong with Berwald? He was acting so weird. Does he seriously hate fake magic that much?_ Matthias wondered as he drove home. He parked in his driveway and walked to his front door. As he went through the keys on his key chain, he went through the events that just took place to see what may have triggered Berwald. When he inserted the key, he had his epiphany. _It was the ticket guy. That's why he was upset. He thought we were dating._ Berwald was very closed about his sexuality ever since he first started questioning it. The only other people that knew about _his preference_ were Matthias - who found out during one of Berwald's gushes of emotion - and the person that made him closed - the reason he was having the gush of emotion _._

 _It's my fault. I should have invited some other people instead of just the two of us. He was probably nervous because he didn't want people to think we're dating. Why am I so stupid._

* * *

Author's note:

Ce pula mea? means what the fuck/ what my dick

Late bcuz of exams. sorry if the chapter is confusing

Side not: I honestly really hate the "love at first sight" trope used in a bunch in fanfics, but now i understand why people use it so much. It takes too long to build a relationship from scratch, especially considering how the characters in question don't see each other often. so the fanfic is probably gonna end up longer than expected. also i didn't mean to romanticise certain characters' relationship so early in the story, my fingers just slipped.

also the locations used in this story are totally fictional, all connections to real world places are pure coincidence. I found out Preston was a real place. No, this story is not set in England. I wanted the country to be ambiguous, which is why a tried to refrain from stating a currency. But i was forced to use dollars , bcuz saying bucks all the time would sound weird. so just pretend, it's a made up place that uses dollars.


	10. Ditcher

Today was the day. The day Berwald had been both anticipating and dreading for a week. Awkwardly talking to himself and reading social interaction guides online was all for this. _Going to the mall with my coworkers_. He stood in front of his closet, fresh out the shower, only in his underwear, trying to decide what to wear. Most of the clothes – in his opinion — made him look like a dad. And the clothes Matthias bought for him would make it look as if he were an immature college student. Yeah, Matthias may be able to pull off such outfits, but if Berwald dressed like that, he'd look like he was trying too hard to look cool and young – even though he actually was one of the youngest in the department. He tugged on the old football jersey hanging at the back of the closet. _No._ He took a hanger from the closet and looked at the nebula designed t-shirt that hung from it – one of Matthias' picks. He looked over to a black varsity jacket with dark grey sleeves and black- &-white-striped cuffs and collar and then to a pair of khaki skinny pants. _I can make this work, right?_ He put on the ensemble and examined himself in the mirror. _Fuck it; I'm not going._ He slumped into bed and weighed his options. _If I go, I might be the only one there. They might ditch me and I'll look lonely wondering the mall all alone. But if they are there, I might do something embarrassing and look stupid. If I don't go, I'll look like an antisocial ditcher who doesn't stand by his word. People will be disappointed and talk shit._ He frustratingly slapped his hands onto his face. _WHY AM I SO FUCKING NERVOUS? I've been talking to these people every day and we've gotten well acquainted. 'm pretty sure they don't think I'm a loser. I told Tino I was going to show up and, by Jove, I'm going to show up!_ He put on his shoes, took his wallet, phone, and side-arm – in case of emergencies — and marched out the door. His own vehicle was still in the garage; he didn't use it very often, only for doing personal things. _Should I use my car or the police car, taxi maybe?_ Taxis were rather hard to find in the suburbs and driving the police car didn't seem right for this situation, so personal car was the best option. He drove the Dodge Challenger out of the garage and followed the GPS on his phone to the mall Tino talked about.

* * *

" _We're going to Waterfront Mall, at four o'clock. You know where that is, right?" Tino inquired to Berwald._

" _Yes, I know," Berwald answered, knowing damn well he didn't have a clue as to where Waterfront Mall was._

" _We're going to meet up at the water fountain at the center of the mall."_

" _Mhm."_

" _I really hope you show up," Tino said with such a warm expression he almost made Berwald's heart melt._

" _Don't worry; I'm going to." The other officers and workers said goodbye as Berwald waved and left._

* * *

"You have reached your destination," a robotic voice announced as he slowly entered mall parking lot. He would've been better off just asking for directions; the navigator gave him such a long and twisting route. The drive was way longer than it had to be. After finding a parking spot, he got out the car and walked across the hot pavement. The air was so hot and humid and the summer sun was hitting hard. The large white sign read "Waterfront Mall: West Wing" at the top of the wide entrance wall, which was an amalgamation of windows. High above was a large entrance shade, clear enough for sunlight to shine through, but tinted enough to keep people from getting the sun in their eyes. It spanned yards ahead of the actual entrance. Under the shade, was an intricate water fountain that had water shooting up as well as water pouring over the tiers, down into a shallow pool filled with Koi fish and spare change. Berwald looked around the fountain, discouraged to only see the unfamiliar faces of teens and a few young adults. Not even Tino was there. He sighed despairingly and turned back to the parking lot. Figures, he shouldn't have expected anything else.

Halfway to the car, he realized something. _Wait, did Tino say the fountain was at the front or in the middle of the mall?_ He wasn't sure, but he needed to be certain. He paced back towards the entrance and went inside, air conditioning splashing him in cold air. The mall interior was quite large, four floors, wide, and packed with shops and restaurants. The inside was mostly white, save for some of the stores and signs. Berwald walked up to the tall color coded board a few feet away from the entrance. "You are here," written in a small white font next to a red pinpoint indicated his location. At the center of the map, where all the wings met, was a circle, what Berwald could only hope was supposed to be a fountain. He followed the path set out for him, going deeper into the mall, ignoring all the free samples and sales being offered by the kiosks. It was a long walk in this maze called a mall; the "You are here" signs were the only thing helping him keep track of where he was. And behold, the fountain was in view, just a couple yards more. He got to the fountain, a large round pool with clear blue water. High above, were false clouds, which looked to be made of dark gray marble, suspended at varying heights (the tallest reaching the second floor), gushing down waterfalls into the pool. _They couldn't possibly just be flying like that_ , Berwald thought on the clouds, _they must be held up by poles hidden behind all that water._ He wandered around the pool, looking for a glimpse of someone familiar. _If I see Tino, I'll sneak on him and scare 'im._ He smiled to himself thinking about Tino's possibly childish reaction, jumping up and shrieking like a little girl. He circled the pool, growing ever more worried, seeing nobody from work. Then, a soft tap on the shoulder. He whipped his head back and saw no one. He faced forward and continued walking, with little feeling he was being followed. Another tap on the shoulder. He turned, this time rotating further, and saw Jessica with her smart-Alec smile. She gave him a quick hug and Berwald squeezed back. It was a warm, fond little moment, but Berwald didn't think it made him special. She did that to all her friends; she's even hugged him a few times at work.

"I knew it was you, by the way," Berwald said.

"No, you didn't."

"I knew." The two began walking to a bench, where a few other friends sat and stood around. Tino, Grete, Andreas – those two were pretty much always with each other — and that booking officer Berwald didn't bother to remember the name of, the guy who kept staring, _Tino's best friend_. The group looked so different in casual clothing, seeing the girls with their hair in something other than a pony tail or a bun; Andreas looking much younger in his white flannel shirt and black skinny jeans; Grete in an oversized white sweater with pink flower print and tights. They were almost wore a long sleeve crop top and skirt. Berwald didn't really have any expectations for what the booking officer might wear, but his black Star Wars jacket and Khakis suited him. But Tino was the one who really grabbed his attention. He wore a simple pink t-shirt with a little pocket that had little white dog design peeping out, a pair of ripped skinny jeans, and a black beanie. Tino would look good no matter what he wore. Maybe his uniform disguised it, but Tino's frame seemed much more husky. Berwald didn't remember him being so muscular.

He was relieved. He was so worried about looking like a college student; in reality, everyone else was dressed the same way. Well, they weren't that old, so it wasn't that strange.

"No, you didn't. While you were walking around, you looked in our general direction twice and didn't even notice us. I think you need new glasses."

As they got to the bench, Tino turned from his friend and grinned up at Berwald.

"Hey, Berry." Tino waved to them followed by the _hey_ 's and _hi_ from the rest of the bunch.

"Hey," Berwald waved back with a quick wrist flick, giving a welcoming smile. He took into consideration what Tino (and Matthias) had said about smiling more. His smiles were the only show of emotion he did when he was amongst his peers and he didn't even do them very often. He never really laughed like when it was just him and Tino on patrol. But he did make the others laugh, and they quickly changed their outlook on him. "David's not here yet?" he asked. Throughout the week, most of the group that initially said they were going had a change of plans. The only people who were actually confirmed were Tino, Grete, Andreas, Jessica, David, and himself… _and the booking officer I guess_. Everyone else were just _maybe_ 's, _I'm-not-sure-if-I-can-make-it_ 's, and _I'll-try'_ s. Berwald honestly thought it was better less people were coming; there was less pressure that way and these people were the ones he was closest with and genuinely considered friends.

"Naw, he comes on his own schedule," answered Grete, "like thirty minutes to an hour late. What time is it?"

Berwald checked the time on his phone. "Ten past five." Berwald hadn't really been paying much attention to the time, but when he thought about it, he realized he must have been at least half an hour late. Taking into account his time wasted on deciding what to wear, driving, then walking all the way here, there was no way he showed up at four. How long did he make them wait? Hopefully, they didn't think he was going to bail on them.

"Let's just go; we'll probably see him wondering around the mall, somewhere."

Tino and his friend got up from the bench and the bunch all began walking towards the north wing. Grete put in her headphones and walked ahead of the pack; Berwald, Tino, and _other_ walked in a row with Jessica and Andreas conversing behind them. Berwald looked over to Tino's bland looking friend. He also wore glasses and his hair was down. He was quite boring looking, but who was Berwald to judge. Some people considered him boring looking as well. The officer was only talking to Tino, as always. They were close after all, being best friends since the sixth grade.

"Hey," Berwald greeted again, trying to break the ice between them.

He nodded and smiled awkwardly. "Hi," he said quickly and calmly before breaking eye contact and looking at his phone.

Berwald and Tino's friend had seen each other somewhat frequently over the week. Berwald and Tino would bring arrestees to him every night and the officer would just talk to Tino while either one of them were filling out the reports. He and Berwald didn't interact all that much, other than saying "hi." The booking officer often just stared, but when he started feeling that Berwald may be annoyed by the rude gesture, he stopped (or at least did it while Berwald wasn't paying attention). The last thing he wanted to do was get on the bad side of someone so scary. Berwald actually did comment on the constant gazing, which was one of the few times he spoke the officer. _"Hey, can you stop?"_ he said. He may have come off as mean; maybe that's why the guy was always tense around him. From that point on, the awkward officer stopped the staring and Berwald didn't even think to talk to him after that. There was a wall between them that one of them would have to break if they were going to see each other so often. They were both friends with Tino, so they might as well try to get to know each other.

Andreas closely examined them from behind, narrowing his eyes, trying to zoom into their features.

"You guys ever notice that Berwald and Eduard kind of look alike?" he asked. Berwald and Eduard turned to Andreas.

Thank God Andreas said his name or else Berwald wouldn't have known what to call him.

"No, not at all," Jessica objected.

"They don't look alike. There's a huge height difference and Berry's buffer. The only things they have in common are blond hair, blue eyes, and glasses," Tino pointed out. "And black jacket... and khakis."

Berwald and Eduard looked down at their outfits and then at each other's.

"They're just dressed similar. Berwald is Eduard if he tried harder," Grete said from the front, without turning back. How could she even hear the conversation with the loud music from her headphones? The others could hear her song loud and clear.

"That's harsh; Eduard tries hard enough," Tino said.

"Not enough to look like Berwald," she replied sassily.

"Excuse me," Eduard scoffed, placing his hand pompously on his chest, "I don't need to try to look like anyone. I'm already amazing the way I am."

Andreas grinned. "She just wants you to look like Berry 'cause she thinks he's _hawt_ ," he razzed.

"Excuse me, what," Grete hissed lifting up a headphone and turning back.

"Nothing." Andreas coyly rolled his eyes.

"No, say it again." Grete marched back and Andreas quickly jogged off to avoid her wrath. Grete began chasing after him. It's been an ongoing gag in the group ever since Grete uttered the words.

Eduard nudged Tino. "Looks like you got even more competition for her love."

"Shut up," he said playfully, bumping Eduard's arm.

It seems as if everyone was already well acquainted with this guy and Berwald was the odd one out.

"I'm not competing. Tino could have Grete all to himself. I respect the guy code like that," Berwald joshed, trying to appeal to Eduard's sense of humor. It worked; Eduard let out a half chuckle and snort, but that may be because of Tino's annoyed expression. Tino flared his nostrils, let out a loud breath, and punched Berwald in the arm.

"Ow, that actually really hurt," Berwald said, rubbing his bicep.

"That's what you get."

"My arm did nothing."

"But your mouth is doing something; you rather I punch you in the mouth instead."

"No."

"Yeah, 'cause you don't want any of this raw power, you nerd. I'm gonna head over to the bathroom." Tino walked off. Now it was just Eduard and Berwald and _the wall_.

"Sooooo, Tino says you've known each other for a while," Berwald started.

"Yup. Since the sixth grade. We even went to the same academy. You're his new partner?" Eduard continued.

"Yup. He gets pretty crazy sometimes, but he's not too hard to handle."

"I'm sorry in advance. Must've had some crazy nights with that wild thing in the car."

Berwald narrowed his eyes. "Say that again, but slower."

Eduard rethought the phrase and took a sharp inhale of realization. "I didn't mean it like that," he giggled. "You have a dirty mind."

"WASSUP LOSERS!" David announced, arms wide open as he approached.

"Hey," Jessica said.

"Hi," Eduard greeted.

"Sup," Berwlad said nonchalantly.

"Hi, David," Tino said as he came.

"Stop; I'm tired of running," Andreas panted as he bended over his knees to catch his breath. "Hey, David."

Grete slowed down behind him and gave him a good thwack to the back of the head before rejoining the group. "Hi, David."

"Ow," he murmured, rubbing the back of his head.

"Sup."

They continued their stroll down the wing. The first floor had many different clothing stores that suited different people's fashion tastes. As well as stores that exclusively sold shoes and related items and jewelers whose contents sparkled with the twinkling lights that bounced off their lustrous surfaces. There were a few high-end eateries on this floor and a supermarket. In the center of the walkway, were kiosks selling candies, perfumes, makeup, hair care products, etcetera.

"Want to go to the bowling alley?" Jessica suggested, feeling bored with just talking and walking.

It was a unanimous agreement. They looked around for an elevator, but all were either in use, couldn't fit everyone, or out of order. David, being too impatient to wait more than two minutes, decided to take an escalator and everyone else followed. The second floor was almost no different from the first. The only differences being it had no kiosks and there were other stores that sold sports gear, toys; a couple music stores and…

"Look at those puppies!" Jessica squealed and ran to a store window. A pet store. Grete and Tino walked by her side and the rest of the guys calmly sauntered over to the window to take a look.

"Tino, that one looks like the puppy on your shirt," Grete pointed out, pointing to the little white Maltese yapping at them. Tino whined and brought his arms forward, curling his fingers as if he were strangling someone.

"Awe, it's too cute. I just want to choke it and send it straight to heaven because it deserves better than to live on this terrible planet." Nobody questioned it. Everyone was already used to Tino's outlandish remarks.

After the three pulled themselves from the window, they continued up to the next level. The third floor was almost exclusively electronics and geeky collectibles, with only a few clothes shops and a bookstore slash school supply store. This floor also had the cinema, skating rink, and the gym. Now, David was the one getting all excited. There was a large comic book store that was having a sale. Eduard's attention was also directed at the comic book store, while the rest seemed more interested in the video game shop. They separated with David and Eduard going to the comics, and the rest going to the games. Andreas and Grete looked through the new releases for anything that looked interesting. Berwald wasn't much of a gamer, so he didn't know all that much about the hottest games. He just played with Tino and Jessica on the console that was left on for the customers to try. It was already set to a first-person shooter. Berwald grabbed the third controller. He was just button mashing the entire time and didn't have a clue what he was doing. Tino looked just as clueless. Berwald looked to his portion of the screen. He was just spinning and shooting at the sky. Jessica knew the game; she easily beat him and Tino in their matches with all her tactics and weapon choice. Jessica laughed and criticized them on their poor gaming skills.

"This game means nothing; I shoot real guns," Tino snarked. "In the real world, we don't twiddle our fingers; we pull triggers."

After Andreas bought what he needed, they left the store, and waited for the other two. Eduard and David came out the store with two plastic bags filled with the latest issues of whatever series they were reading and figurines. It seemed as if they were having an argument about the death of a superhero, if he actually died or if it was too early to tell.

"He's dead, David. Get over it."

"There's no body and no witnesses."

" 'kay, let's go, you two," Jessica called out. "Y'all can argue about your nerd stuff later."

They continued up to the fourth and final floor. The escalator led right into the food court. The steam from the food being cooked up snuck into Tino's nose. He took in deep whiffs of the savory aroma.

"Guys, I really want t'eat. Before we go bowling, let's go eat. That food smells really good," he craved.

"Sounds fine, anyone else hungry?" Eduard questioned. No one else was actually hungry, but it was almost dinner time, so they thought " _eh why not?_ "

"So where do you guys want to eat?" asked Jessica.

"I wanna eat whatever I'm smelling."

"I'm fine with anything," Berwald shrugged.

"Yeah, I don't mind either," Grete chimed in.

"Oh, you don't want to choose because Berry doesn't want to choose," teased Jessica, wiggling her brow and crimping her lips into an immature smile. The rest – except Berwald, of course — giggled and oohed like school kids. Grete's face went to a stern deadpan expression, trying to convey annoyance, but also trying to hide any traces of amusement. Her cheeks turned pink and she elbowed Andreas in the stomach.

"Why?" he grunted at the striking pain in his gut.

"You started this."

"Okay, let's start eating," Tino rushed.

"Calm down; the food isn't going to run away," Eduard eased.

"Don't get between me and food, Eduard. I won't hesitate to fight you." Tino raised up two balled up fists.

Eduard playfully lifted his hands in surrender. "I'm not trying to get between you and your food." Since Tino was the only one who decided where he wanted to eat, they followed him. He followed his nose around the cafeteria, going from restaurant to restaurant, stall to stall, trying to find the source of the mouth-watering tanginess.

"We've probably walked off two kilos just looking for a restaurant," Berwald said.

"I know where I'm going; my nose knows the way," Tino argued.

'Naw, no; your nose is lost as hell, too," Berwald disagreed shaking his head. "We've been walking for about nine minutes; this place isn't big enough to be walking for nine minutes."

"Umm, nobody told you guys to eat what I'm eating; you guys could just eat pizza or fast food and all that heart attack mess, while I could eat my healthy Chinese food."

"How can you tell if it's Chinese food?"

"It smells Asian."

"What does Asia smell like?"

"You can just tell the ethnicity of a food from how it smells; maybe if your nose was as sensitive as mine, you would also be able to tell."

"Can you tell I'm European just from my scent?" He lifted his shirt over his nose and took in a deep inhale, "You can just smell that good ol' European musk. Oh yes." The others broke into a short fit of laughter, Grete laughing way harder than she should have and catching everyone's stares.

"It wasn't that fun..."

"Shut up, Eduard."

"I'm just gonna eat pizza," David reconsidered.

"Yeah, me, too," from Grete and Andreas simultaneously.

"I'll go with pizza," agreed Jessica. "I'll go look for a table."

"You going to go with them?" Eduard asked.

"Nah, I want to _taste Asia_." Eduard chuckled. It seemed like he was getting less nervous around Berwald.

"Fight me," Tino challenged.

"Nah, I'm good."

The group met up at a set of tables that Grete and David had pushed together. David, Grete, Andreas, and Jessica had already gotten their pizza and Tino, Eduard, and Berwald had just arrived with their trays of food. They took their seats. David fanned his nostrils.

"Oh yes, the smell of Europe and Asia are uniting."

Grete was also fanning the smell into her nose. "Oh yes, the smell of Istanbul."

There was a sudden sharp noise. The group looked around surprised and wide-eyed. Their attention all went to Berwald, who was also wide-eyed, his hand covering his nose and mouth.

"Did that noise just come out of you?" Tino asked. "Was that supposed to be a laugh or a sneeze?"

"Yo, you just made _Berwald_ laugh," Jessica ogled at Grete.

"I thought it would sound deeper," Andreas commented.

Another sharp noise escaped Berwald's mouth. "I just have hiccups." He let his hand down.

"Damn, I really was hoping you laughed," Grete cursed.

"Oh, so you want Berwald to laugh," David smirked and nodded his head.

"That's the point of a joke, David, to make people laugh. And I'm pretty sure all of us want to know what his laugh sounds like."

"Especially you, though," David mumbled.

Tino pulled out his mobile and proceeded to take pictures of his food on his phone.

"Are you seriously going to finish that?" Grete asked Tino. "It's massive."

"I can finish it."

They bantered as they ate and after they finished. Berwald was more talkative towards the beginning of the conversation, but spoke less and less as the conversation stretched on. So far, he hadn't been too nervous; he seemed to be doing well. Probably, all that time talking to these people over the week helped build up his confidence. They had gotten used to the fact that he didn't talk too often, but he did in fact talk. David took a bit longer to convince – and Berwald still wasn't a hundred percent sure he was—but he eventually got acquainted with him as well. David had the tendency to speak a lot, similar to Tino. But unlike Tino, he didn't care if his conversation partner was getting bored by the constant yammering. He would just talk and talk and Berwald would just pretend to be interested and nod and hum. He didn't actually have to speak too much.

After they finished up their dinner, the group continued down the wing. The fourth level had the food court and recreational activities. There was a gaming center, bowling hall, and miniature golf. The ceiling was also especially high to make room for the tall roller coasters in the indoor theme park that took up most of the space in the floor. Because of all the "fun stuff", this was where most of the teens and young adults hung out.

"Hey," Tino whispered to Berwald, nudging him with his elbow.

"Yeah," Berwald whispered back.

"The sweater Grete is wearing, that's the one I got her on her birthday. The day I got friend zoned," he frowned.

He looked over to her. "It's a cute sweater."

"Did you just say you think Grete is cute," Jessica said, tuning in on their conversation.

"Oooh," Andreas mouthed.

"That's not what I said. I was talking about her sweater."

"Oh, Grete, Berwald thinks your sweater is cute," Eduard chimed in.

"I know; I'm not deaf," Grete replied bluntly. "You guys are so childish."

"Exactly, what are you guys? Middle-schoolers?"

"They even agree with each other," Andreas snickered.

"Shut up," Berwald and Grete said simultaneously, causing an uproar of ooh's.

"Grete is single, by the way," Eduard nudged, wiggling his eyebrows. "Tino might try to fight you, though."

"Stop it." Berwald would have never imagined himself in this kind of situation. Where a bunch of his own friends would suggest he and another friend should date, even if it was just a joke. The closest he's been to this was when somebody in his class would say someone liked him or he and so-and-so should date as a way to humiliate that person. Of course their reaction was negative. _EW! NO! Don't even say that! I would never date him._ No one wanted to date the biggest nobody in school. He could tell this situation was different, though. It was just friendly teasing. He looked over to Jessica; he noticed she was shivering uncontrollably.

"Are you cold? I can lend you my sweater if you are." Berwald offered.

"Oh, thank you." Berwald slipped off his jacket and handed it to Jessica who put it on. It was much too large for her; the bottom of the thick black jacket reaching almost to her knees and the sleeves completely hiding her hands.

"Grete, you better fight her."

"David, shut up."

"Berwald the lady killer strikes again," Tino chanted.

"And they say chivalry is dead," Grete smirked.

"I didn't do anything all that chivalrous; it was just what you're supposed to do when your friend is cold. And I'm not a lady killer."

"Oooh, modesty," Tino grinned.

They reached a large glass wall, behind it could be seen the bowling lanes, the bowling ball returns, the seats, and the scoreboard screens. Berwald walked to the door, held it open for the rest of them and followed behind. The floors were carpeted with a retro pattern, dark purple with various colored triangles. There were others already bowling, a family, a couple adolescents. They went over to the cashier counter and paid for two-hours worth of games on two lanes plus bowling shoes. The clerk assigned their adjacent lanes. The floor became shining waxed wood a few yards before the start of the lanes. They took their seats and put on their rental shoes. Eduard typed their names into the scoreboard. Tino and David got a little too excited and got the balls immediately after putting on their shoes. Tino ran into the lane, pulled his arm back, and swung the ball forward. It sped down the alley and knocked out all the pins in one go. His eyes lit up and he pumped a fist into the air.

"I got a strike on the _first try_! Try to beat that, you fools."

"Uhuh, but it doesn't count, though, because your foot was over the line," Grete rained on his parade.

Tino looked down to his feet. He was standing right over the foul line. "I still get another shot." He took another ball and jogged over to the lane, being more careful to know where his feet were placed. He rolled the ball and it drifted to the side of the lane, almost into a gutter. He only hit down three at the edge. He crinkled his nose and rolled his eyes in vexation. In the next lane, David managed to hit down five pins in his first frame, but almost missed the remaining pins, only hitting down two.

"Ha, suckers," Andreas taunted. He took a red ball from the ball return and went to the lane after Tino. Berwald went after David and took a ball. He walked over to the lane and inserted his fingers into the holes. It didn't look too hard and he's bowled a couple times before, on school field trips and being dragged by Matthias as a way to spend quality time. He brought his arm back, shot it forward, and released the ball. It glided into the center pins, a seven ten split. Berwald clicked his tongue and hissed at the tough trial. Andreas was also in the same situation. They both went back to get their second balls. Berwald swung and aimed for the right pin and struck it down. Andreas luckily was able to hit one of the pins and it flew into and knocked down the other. He smirked over to Berwald. "I got skills."

"You got lucky."

It was Eduard and Grete's turns. Grete was confident in her bowling skills and effortlessly rolled her ball down the lane and knocking them all down. " _I got a strike on the first try_! And I didn't even step over the foul line."

Tino stuck out his tongue. "Berwald control your woman; she's harassing me."

Grete turned back and flipped him off. Eduard just finished his frames and Jessica went up. David took his ball and prepared for his next frame. Since the number of people were unevenly matched, one lane took three and the other took four. David, Berwald, and Grete for one lane; Tino, Andreas, Eduard, and Jessica for the other.

They continued playing until their time was up and the machines stopped resetting the pins. David tried to get in one last round, but the machine didn't put the pins up after he knocked them down and his score wasn't counted. Jessica topped everyone with her high number of strikes. Tino ended up the lowest, with him forgetting to notice the line.

"I could've won. My bowling skills are top notch; it's just because of that friggin' line that I lost," he ranted.

"Even if you didn't get fouls, you would have lost," Eduard corrected. "You barely hit any of the pins and barely got any strikes."

Tino crinkled his nose it him.

Jessica grinned and her eyes lit up as an idea popped into her head. "Before we go, we should see the fountains in the back. I want to take some pictures."

"I don't want to be in any pictures," Berwald sighed.

"C'mon, it's our first time hanging out with you; we gotta make this memorable."

"Okay, but why now? Why didn't we take the pictures when we got here?"

"I'm not talking about those fountains; I'm talking about the ones in the back."

 _How many fountains does this mall have?_

There was a reason it was called Waterfront Mall: it was, well, in front of the water. Behind it was a bay with fountains. Every night, there would be a colorful water show. It repeated every couple hours throughout the night into the early morning.

"Jessica's right; we should totally go," Tino agreed.

"You know how I feel about taking pictures. I don't want to," Berwald pleaded.

"We won't post it anywhere, right guys?" Tino looked to his friends. They all nodded and agreed. "It will be pictures just between us. We won't even show anyone at work."

Berwald conflictingly bit his lip. "I don't know. We'll walk there and see."

"Perkele, Berwald stop being so shy for fuck's sake! Grete thinks you're hot; I think you're hot, not in _that way_ , and your outfit is awesome! Let's take that picture!" Tino firmly grasped Berwald hand and marched forward. They went back down to the first floor and walked out the sliding glass doors of the back entrance. Berwald moaned and groaned the whole way there as Tino yanked him along.

The back of the mall was a wide walkway paved in red bricks. Tall black lampposts were placed equidistant from each other and illuminated the evening view. The ground was covered in extravagant street art and murals, done mostly in chalk or paint. Colossal modern art sculptures were dispersed from end to end. The walkway served as an art gallery and the mall invited any up-and-coming artist to put their creations on display. There were also stands and kiosks to sell snacks and merchandise. There were shops for bike and electric scooter rentals. Across the baywalk, opposite from the mall was a peach colored seawall designed with marine themed mosaics. The wall wasn't too high, but tall enough to keep children from falling dawn the two-yard (1.8288 meter) drop into the ocean.

"Hey, what time is it?" Jessica asked.

Eduard looked at his digital watch and raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Going to be ten soon. The time went by so fast."

"Yeah, but at least we didn't miss the water show."

"We have thirty minutes until it starts."

"Enough time to take pictures," Tino wiggled a brow to Berwald. He fished his phone out of his pocket and set it to camera mode. "Let's take a photo by that sculpture over there." He pointed to a metal monument depicting a highly detailed pair of hands, starting from the wrist, fingers curled and meeting together in the shape of a heart. There was another smaller hand in front of the two, its middle and ring fingers folded in and the index, pinkie finger, and thumb were extended out. "I'm gonna ask that guy if he can take a picture," he said, referring to an older gentleman walking passed.

"I could be the one who takes the picture," Berwald _so generously_ offered.

"Yeah, it could be a _group selfie_ ; you could be at the _very front_ of the picture and the _camera could be focused on you_ and _we'll all just be behind you_ , y'know," Tino said with a cheerful sarcasm.

"I was thinking I could be behind camera, not in the picture."

"No, you're going to be in front of the camera, in the picture."

The gang walked to the sculpture. Eduard looked down at the black marble base of the statue and read the stainless steel engraved plate. " 'I Love You' by Hayala Sabbagh."

"What do devil horns have to do with love?" Andreas asked.

"That's 'I love you' in sign language," Jessica corrected. "The thumb makes a difference."

"Umm, sir, can you take a picture of me and my friends?" Tino asked, walking over to the old man.

"I don't mind," he accepted.

"Thank you," Tino handed him the phone and scurried back to his friends by the sculpture. "Now you can't escape or you'll waste the nice man's time," he snickered to Berwald. Tino had a point; he didn't want to annoy the guy by coming up with a thousand excuses or procrastinating. It might also annoy his new friends. All he could do now was just accept it. He got down on one knee, along with David and Andreas. He signed "I love you," with his hand placed next to his cheek and smiled for the camera. Two quick bright flashes and that was it. Tino rushed to the gentleman and thanked him.

"Glad to be of service," he said as he gave Tino his phone. The rest of the group circled around Tino to take a look. It was an unspoken agreement: everyone must make one of the gestures displayed in the statue. They had varying poses with varying expressions, but all either shaped their hands in a heart or made the sign. Berwald felt dissatisfied with himself in the picture, but he didn't want to do it over either.

"I'll just send you guys the pictures later. Berry, you look really nice," Tino grinned. Grete also wanted to compliment Berwald, but she was fed up with her friends' childish reactions.

"Thanks, you look nice, too."

"Don't I look nice?" Eduard smirked, putting his hand to his chin and batting his eyes.

"No."

"Grete! You're too mean," Tino upbraided. "You look nice, Eduard."

"Thank you. What did I ever do to you, Grete. You're so mean to me."

"I'm not mean, just honest."

"Well, why aren't you honest with other people?"

"Because other people get easily offended. You can actually handle the truth."

"I guess so, but I still get hurt. Tone down the honesty."

"Fine."

They spent the rest of their time looking at the art and watching an artist put the finishing touches on his street painting, waiting until the show started. They walked to the seawall and bantered while they waited. The sound of music began to play. Berwald looked around to find whatever the source of the music was, but everyone else's attention was given to the water. From the corner of his eye, he noticed moving white lights and his attention was also brought to the bay. Little glowing spouts sprouted from the water and swayed in accordance to the rhythm of the music, like tall grasses dancing in the wind. Another set of illuminated fountains rose and dropped as it wound and snaked across the surface. The waters continued to dance as the music's beat gained in intensity. Aqua-halos shot up and swung along. They flew higher and fell and continued to bounce like sound waves. The halos crisscrossed into crowns. Mountains of water boomed as they erupted into the air with the powerful tempo. The water was a dancer moving in choreography with the song across a liquid stage. It seemed Jessica was too entranced by the show, she forgot her original motive for coming: taking pictures of them with the fountains. Eh, whatever; they already snapped some photos with the sculpture. There was a low disruption in the sound, but the dancer went on and Berwald kept his eyes on her. The disturbance continued, but Berwald paid no mind.

"Are you going to get that?" Tino asked, tapping on his shoulder. Berwald's attention was finally brought to the noise, his phone. He took it out his pocket. It was Matthias.

"I'm going to go somewhere quiet."

"Sure."

Berwald went back into the mall, where the loud music was muffled enough, and answered.

"Hey, Ber, are you coming?" Matthias asked with subtle worry.

"Hm?"

"To the bar. Remember? We talked about it. We were going to go around the town after."

 _Wanna go out around the town on Saturday, just walk around. I'll meet u at the bar._

 _I'll think about it._

 _I'll think about it_ usually meant _yes_ , so Matthias didn't have a doubt Berwald would show up.

Matthias had been so enthusiastic about Saturday, today. He wanted a quality time. A time they could just be out together and enjoy what the city had to offer. Having fun, just the bros. They would have a couple drinks before heading out for a night on the town.

Berwald froze. Matthias' little outing had totally slipped his mind. Matthias talked about it so much; how could he forget? He was only thinking about his plans with Tino and the gang. He cleared his throat and gave wet coughs.

"I'm so sorry; I-I can't make it," he said in a deep nasally voice. "I forgot to call ahead of time to tell you; sorry, but I have a really bad cold. I have an intense migraine and I'm throwin- I'm throwin' up a lot. I'm sorry if I wasted any of your time." He gave a few more coughs for effect.

"Oh." _That's sad to hear._ His voice went flat, something he did when he tried to disguise his dejection.

"Yeah, I'm so sorry." Berwald fidgeted with his nose and forced a sneeze.

"Should I come over and..."

"Oh, no that's not necessary. It's so late and I don't want to waste more of your time."

"No, it's fine; I want to help you get well."

"That's so kind of you; you're such a caring older brother, but I don't want you to catch this, okay?"

"I don't mi…"

"It's real bad. It makes me happy to know that you're safe and healthy and it would make me super upset if you got sick just because of me. All I need is some good night's rest."

 _That's so thoughtful of him thinking about me like that_. "Are you sure you don't need me to help out?"

"Yeah, it'll probably pass over after a day or two. Y'know, my immune system. I've never gotten that sick."

"Okay, but you don't need anything at all?"

"No, Matthias, thank you for offering." He yawned. "I'm already getting pretty tired. You just enjoy yourself." _Cough. Cough._

"Well… Okay, get well soon."

"Yup. Bye."

"Good night. I love you."

"Love you, too." He hung up. Berwald needed to head home. Most likely Matthias wouldn't go to his house; he wouldn't do anything that he thought would make his brother upset. But there was still a small chance he would pop up to check on Berwald at his house. He walked back to his friends at seawall. He watched the fountains with them a little longer.

"I'm gonna head home," he mouthed to Tino.

"So soon; really?"

"Yeah."

"You're going home?" Eduard popped in.

"Mhm. I gotta get going."

Tino didn't need an explanation; he wasn't the type to ask for potentially personal information.

Berwald said his farewells.

"Bye Berry. Have a safe drive."

"G'bye; see you at work."

"Bye."

"Good night."

"Good bye. See you soon."

He waved them off and walked back to the mall entrance.

"Wait, Berry!" Jessica called as she race walked behind. Berwald looked back.

"Your jacket. You almost forgot it." She handed it back to him.

"Oh, thanks."

He walked through parking lot and back to his car.

* * *

Matthias sat forlorn by the bar counter; in the same seat he's been sitting (and now sulking) in for an hour and fifteen minutes. If it were any other person, he would've left after about twenty minutes, but he was always more patient when it came to his brother. He was always sure Berwald would come, even if not immediately. But now, he was just told he wasn't coming. He sighed and put his head in his hand in disappointment. Something felt off, but he didn't question it.

 _"Do you have any ideas for casual clothes to wear if I'm going out?" he remembered Berwald asking while they laid in bed together._

 _"You could wear whatever you want; you'd look nice in anything. For Saturday, right?" he asked in his soft pillow talk voice._

 _Berwald's eyes fluttered as if he had just woken up from a nap. "Yeah, Saturday."_

 _Matthias rolled closer to him and wrapped his brother's arm around himself. "So you've decided you're coming?" he hummed, nuzzling up to Berwald._

 _"Still thinking about it."_

 _"You better come or else what's the point of me showing up at a bar alone. The city is nice at night; we should see it together."_

 _"No, not really."_

 _"Hmm?" Matthias hummed inquisitively._

 _"The city's not that nice."_

 _"Why's that?"_

 _"You don't see stars. Just lights."_

 _"So? Lights are pretty. They kind of look like stars."_

 _"Yeah, but real stars would be nice to see once in a while."_

 _"Maybe on Saturday, we could go to, like, a space auditorium or an observatory. Why are you so interested in stars anyway?"_

 _"Just something that I was thinking about."_

Throughout the week, he'd been making plans. He even searched for museums in the area that had space themed exhibits. But now, there was no point. Berwald wasn't coming. It was so sudden, but it was nothing to be worried about. Ber wouldn't hide anything from him. If he says he had a cold, then it was just a cold. There were no secrets between them. Since he's already here, he might as well have a couple drinks, to help ease the sorrow. He didn't need anything fancy, just something get him a little buzzed. It was a habit of his, drinking when upset. Something he picked up from his father. But he usually made sure to drink in moderation; he didn't want to risk becoming an alcoholic. But even though he tried so hard to drink responsibly, he'd wake up the next day without any memory. He waved over to the bar tender, asked for three shots of vodka, and put the money on the counter. He downed them straight. His tolerance was pretty high. He hopped off the stool and stretched his back to adjust from sitting for so long in the chair. As he stretched back, he noticed a girl sitting at the other end of the counter, head in her hands, surrounded by two empty shot glasses. She looked glum. He sauntered over to her.

"You okay? You're not looking so hot."

The girl lazily looked over to him with a lost expression.

"I didn't mean that you weren't... y-you're very hot; you just look upset."

"I know what you meant; it's just taking a while for me to process. I'mmmm...not in my most sober state right now," she drauled.

"Well, neither am I. Mind if I sit?"

"It's not my bar, so it's not my decision where you sit."

Matthias furrowed his brow. It seemed like he also needed time to process things.

She sighed through her nostrils and rolled her eyes. "Sure, you can sit."

He pulled out the stool beside her. "Why are you sitting all sad and alone? You're too pretty to be alone."

"I regret letting you sit."

Matthias chuckled. "I'm not trying to hit on you. I'm just trying to help you feel better and compliments usually make people feel better."

"Couldn't you think of less cheesy and overused?"

"Well, seeing as how I get most of my girl advice from fuckboy friends and the internet, no, I can't. But really though, why do you look all upset?"

"Because if you hadn't noticed, I'm alone. Was supposed to be here with some guy for our first date and now," she blew a raspberry, "I'm the only one here."

"That's the same exact situation I'm in right now."

She raised her eyebrows. "You're on your first date with some guy your friends hooked you up with? I don't judge."

"Something like that. A brotherly bonding date? I guess you could call it that."

"Oh, so like, a bro date."

"If that's a thing, then yes."

"It's a thing." She clicked her tongue. "I still can't get over the fact that I got stood up. I put so much effort into this cute outfit and my hair and make up, and now I'm alone."

"But now you're alone with another loner," he joked. "Does that truly mean you're alone?"

"Yup."

"Well then, would you like to toast to our loneliness?"

She shrugged. "Eh, sure."

He waved to the bar tender. "Two drinks, my good man! Bring us your finest..." He looked back to the girl and spoke with a lower voice. "What would you like?"

"I don't know, something strong?"

"Something strong!" He yelled.

* * *

Berwald arrived at his house. Luckily Matthias' car wasn't parked around. He parked the car and unlocked the door into his house. He kicked off his shoes and pulled his clothes off before jumping into bed. He didn't know if or when Matthias could pop up, so he had to be prepared. He lied in bed for an hour, just staring at the ceiling and looking through his phone. _Well damn, if he wasn't gonna show up, I should've just stayed with them a while longer._ His phone began to buzz. It was from Tino.

" _I wanted to send u this before I forget"_

The picture they had taken before with the rest of the group popped up on the screen. Then another picture. It was him. His back was towards the camera, but the angle still showed a clear picture of his face. Him leaning over the seawall; one arm resting on it the wall; the other balled up in a fist, holding up his head. All against the backdrop of the colored fountains.

" _when did u take that"_ Berwald sent.

" _while u weren't looking"_

" _delete it"_

" _never"_

" _delete it plase"_

" _*please"_ Berwald corrected.

 _"no, it's a nice pic"_

" _it's against the law to take a picture of someone without their consent"_

" _I am the law"_

" _Tino PLEASE just delete it"_

" _Fine"_

" _Thanks"_

" _Did anything happen after I left"_

" _no, we just watched the fountains, talked, then went home"_

Berwald didn't really know what to talk about next, but he didn't want the conversation to end.

" _I had a nice time"_

" _yeah me too. I really liked the bowling"_

" _u guys usually hang out there"_

" _sometimes, it's kind of a new place, but there's so much stuff to do"_

" _cuz it's so big"_

" _hah, that's what she said. I'm mentally a 12 year old"_

" _you're also physically 12"_

" _I'm not that small"_

" _that's what he said'_

" _we're both mentally 12"_

" _yeah"_

* * *

 **Author's Note: Changed Berwald's football position from defensive tackle to Defensive End. I don't know shit about football, so I may change it frequently. Changed it cuz defensive tackle players are too thicc. Berwald's body type is most similar to Cameron Wake (according to my brother).**

 **Also, all the parts about Ber being a loser are his own views on himself. His school life didn't suck as bad as he thought, but it did actually suck pretty bad. He does actually have good moments, but he doesn't focus on them.**

 **Give me advice on writing if you can. I feel as if i'm doing something wrong**


End file.
